This Following Story: Patchwork
by Ghost Writer no. 3
Summary: A next life/Reincarnation story. Sequal to This Following Story. :: They thought there was just two. They slowly finds connections with a dozen other people.
1. Starts with a whisper

This is the sequel to my other story, appropriately named "This following story". Some of the ideas in this story I came up before the other story, but this deals with everyone else. If you don't understand who everyone else is…you'll understand soon.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts.

Author's Notes: I suppose you do not have to read the first story if you can't for some reason, but it's probably best if you do. You'll understand the writing style better.

Some helpful hints: If 'she' is used, it refers to the PoV of the main character. If it is she that is in italics or is in bold (ex: _she_), then it means another girl besides the main character. I'm sorry if it's confusing.

* * *

On their sweet sixteen, their grandparents them all their bonds they bought for them over the years.

Her sister promised to save them and cash them and use them for future learning.

She said she would put in the bank so she could save up enough to buy a car.

She was sixteen. Between fourteen and fifteen, she dreamed of being a boy named Roxas, a Nobody, a bad guy, who wanted more then anything to find out who he was and have a heart. A fairy tale with an almost happy ending.

She thought she was crazy when the dreams began. But she found out her sister had similar dreams. But not quite the same. Her twin dreamed of a lonely girl named Naminé, also a Nobody, a witch, but never a truly evil or bad being. She was created from no one, but two people. Half of what Roxas was. Born at the same time.

They were already siblings then.

At sixteen, they could still be found in each other's rooms. It was so much more comfortable at night to not feel lost and hear identical rhythms of breathing and beats.

This story is not just them. It would be all of them.

---

She walked past a bar. She walked past it several times before. She went in several times for a drink after practices if she had the money, the time, and the energy. Non-alcoholic, of course.

This was the first time she saw him. The first thing she noticed was he was black. She was not racist, but at school and on her team, the majority of students had light pigment in their skin. It did not offend her: She simply noticed it.

His hair was buzzed off closed to his head. He wore a pair of black slacks and a white sleeveless shirt. He was by himself at a pool table. Nobody else played with him, so she assumed he was practicing.

She entered the establishment and took a seat at an empty table and she watched him play. He took the cue-stick and applied a bit more blue chalk. His gangly formed leaned over the table and brought the stick back. Another shot.

"You play?"

She was shocked when he asked it suddenly. She actually pointed to herself and asked, "Me?" ever so softly.

He nodded to her.

She shook her head and said, "No."

He grinned, white teeth bright against his skin. "Shame."

Eventually, she finished her drink and left, not once looking back.

---

She realized who Xigbar was first.

It had been an accident, but cause and effect led her to him. She picked a fight with a line backer at school. On purpose. She heard rumors of the way the big mutt wanted her sister. Always the protector and the mock-brother, she told him off in various ways. One example was that if he touched her darling twin, she would leave him like the Queen left Ripley. And if he didn't under that analogy, it meant his chest would soon be a big cavity.

But she no longer had near-impossible skills at her side, nor large weapons at her disposal. And unlike most other sportsmen she was generally friends with, this near-man had a bad problem with women. Especially the ones who told him off. A future abuser, this one.

After practice the next evening, she half-ran down the streets, while him and three of his friends trailed her. She started to panic.

She saw "Brian's Gun Shop" and the open sign inviting her in.

She never went into a gun store before, but she assumed safety. Her dad had a few rifles locked in a cabinet and one hand gun he kept just incase of robbers. But she had never seen so many firing weapons in her life. The owner, a mid-30ish man with a cigarette in his mouth, looked up for a moment before going back to his papers. "Look, but don't touched." He mumbles around the stick.

She paid no mind to any guns, but stood near a shelf near the barred window and glanced out. She figured they saw her go in. But if they did, they might not try anything.

"Get behind the counter."

She looked at the Gun shop Owner with surprise, "What?"

"You ain't the first girl who ran in here to hid from hoodlums and you won't be the last girl to do it. Get behind the counter." He spoke rather calmly.

She wanted to say no, but they were coming and hell if she wasn't afraid of them more than this man. She walked over. He nodded his head to a cubby behind the counter. It looked to be the top part of a large filing cabinet. It wasn't too tall, but she squeezed easily inside it and could still sit up for the most part.

"Bring up your knees."

She did the commanded and he half-stood in front of her. She heard the door open. The only thing she could see was the owner emptying something metal on the counter. Silence, until, "Your underage"

"What?" That response and voice belong to the infamous meat-head player.

"You're underage. Unless you are window shopping or waiting for your legal guardian to come in, you cannot purchase a weapon legally. You can inherit one if you receive it unlicensed, but I am a licensed dealer and I don't sell guns illegally."

Another pause of silence. He never looked down at her.

"Was there a girl in here?" The man-boy asked.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Did you see a girl in here?" They had no proof she was here. The shop owner crossed his arms and stared them down. But the player was still trying.

"Is there another exit?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure there isn't one?"

"Yes."

Shuffle around, she heard the door open. "Common, she's gone."

"She went in here." A loud whisper, from the brute. "So…we can look around?

"Not behind the counter, not behind the closed door. If you want to see a display, you must have a parent or guardian." She knew they would wait for her. She did not think she wanted to wait any longer. The man bent down for a moment, grabbed another case, and gave her a grin and a wink that any of the boys about would be lecherous but on him it looked funny. She smiled when he stood back up and set the case down.

"Back in my day, during my time in the army," he started to prattle on as he slowly drew out some metal parts together. She could not see the parts, but the clinking was distinct, "We had to learn how to field strip all kinds of automatic weapons. Shame now a days you young men barely know the direction to point one of these finely made American weapons." Slide. "Gun violence is up, and it's always some kids gettin' shot because people know nothing'." A light slamming on the counter, "I get a whole lot of complains from my costumers." Click-titters. "Upsets me a bit." Slide-shush, chuck-chuck, "Any of you boys interested in joining the military?"

Silence. The veteran grabbed a box of ammunition and said so calmly, "Mighty shame."

"Let's go." Someone whispered. She could not tell which one it was.

She heard them step away, then the door closing. A few moments later, he peaked down and let out a harsh sound, "Daisy, what _the hell _are you messing with boys who are three times your size? What are you, 100 lbs?"

She glared up at him, "I told the big lug if he touched my sister, I'd make sure he wouldn't have the right tools left to want her."

The man snorted, then let out a full laughter, making him appear younger then the "Mail Call" look he seemed to be going for, "Well, little lady, I think you have a set." He backed away to let her get up. She stood up and glanced at him for a moment before walking out from behind the counter. "They'll stick around for a bit." He warned almost cheerfully, "You can stay until you think it's safe. Don't get many social visits."

She started him with something that is the child of a glare and a pout, but agreed and took a seat in the corner. He chuckled and remarked quietly, "Who would think a kid would really look like him?"

"Who?" For some reason, she did not want the silence.

"Ah…another kid I knew, I guess. He always gave me the same look, the little prick." He finished packing the pieces of whatever gun he pulled out back in their proper place. He took out his paper and pencil and started back to his paper-work, "Nah…guess I really don't know him." It looked to be some sort of forum. "Not cocky, just stubborn. He did listen and could shoot well, though a gun wasn't his specialty. Though…I might be crazy." He never stopped writing.

"What's that?" She hated being compared to others.

"Eh, because…It's complicated. A bad omen. XIII isn't really a good thing to think someone as." He said it as if he read it off his paper

Her blood froze and she stiffed and her brain wouldn't work.

The man reads it wrong. All damn wrong. "Don't worry, kid, I ain't crazy. Just have a wild imagination with numbers."

'No,' she thought, 'Not that, not that. Too damn close.' "What was your number?" She has to ask.

"What?" He looked up, slightly confused.

"Your number. Out of thirteen." She knew that in his world, she should not know the max number.

"Two." His attention was now focused on her.

"Xigbar…Number Two was Xigbar."

The pencil dropped and rolled off the counter. The cigarette also hit the floor. But then he smiled. Not a good or a bad smile, but it felt to her it should have belonged on a cyclops with elf ears and skunk hair. "Well, I'll be damned." He bent down to retrieve his stick. "The little dude is also here. Or, dudette now."

She stayed a few more hours, then Mr. Brain gave her a lift home.

--

The football player fond a new flavor in one of their cheer-leaders, so her sister was safe.

She walked by the bar again, but did not see the pool player. It disappointed her, so she signed and skipped the beverage for today.

---

Demxy was the next one she found. No, not found. Just bluntly guided to.

She typed in various names on search engines and found the, "Melodious Nocturne" playing at a coffee shop she had seen in some school ads. She asked Brain about it and he grinned and informed her, "The kid's still playing. Saw him play once. Saw a few others around." The man mumbled as he loaded casings into the cleaner.

"Who else?" She dared to ask.

He shook his head, "Some. Not everyone wants to think it could be real, little dude. Some…don't want to remember it." He tapped his chest and she understood.

"What about IX?" She asked quietly.

He smiled, "Why the hell do you think he named the band his title if he didn't want to be found?

---

She went under the guise of trying to find a good place to relax at with a friend of her sister's, another ball player, and a new couple who could only go out on dates if they were with a group.

She watched the performance, and stared at the guitar player/back up singer the whole time. A hat was given out for tips. She threw in a dollar with a note attached which read:

'_Number II said to meet you. Invite me somewhere private."_

_-Girl by the Window_

It took a half hour before his head appeared from the employee's only section.

She raised her hand and he grinned, waving his arm to indicate for her to come.

She stood up, said, "Excuse me," to the group and walked over to where she saw his head last.

She did not expect to be dragged out of the hallway to the back of the employee's lounge. There was no one else around, surprisingly.

"I'd take you to our van, but the rest of the band is there. They wouldn't understand." He was an older man but younger then the gun shop owner. Maybe in his early twenties. His skin was a baked tan-yellow, black eyes too wide for a grown man, and hair that reminded her of oil. It was done in some sort of messy braids. They were like pigtails, but there were several around his thick hair. She estimated that without the style, it would be straight and hang down to around his chin. His mouth was really large, too, which displayed a wide smile permanently. But the thing that struck her the most was the almost exertion he gave off. It reminded her of some of her younger cousins. "Now, don't tell me. Don't tell me!" He waved his finger back and froth as he talked, "…Larxene?"

"No."

He gave her a once over, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm very sure." The obscurity of the conversation. She wanted to laugh.

The man-child walked around, carefully inspected her. It was annoying, but it was just pure scrutiny. He touched her hair (She restrained herself from slapping him), and said, "Well, I'd say you look a little like XIII, but you know…" She let a small smile escaped and the man's expression turned to shock. "No! Really? But, but, but you're a, you're a…you have boobs!"

She always thought herself a witty person, but she was slightly surprised when her next sentenced came out of her mouth as if planned days ago, "I had doubts from Brian about who you were, but now I know he was right."

"Oh! There's nothing wrong with being a girl. Just…" He yet again looked her up and down, "You are a girl, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay!" He rubbed his hands nervously. "I mean, everyone else has at least kept their gender, but not that strange, if you think about it." He looked her over yet again. It would quite annoying, but still the gazed lacked any predations behind it. "Actually, you are the closest person to look like they did. Besides…gender. But yes, that's okay!" He grabbed some water. She noticed he had a slight accent, but could not place it. His voice was also much lower.

"So…you meant Xigbar."

"I think he prefers Brain."

"Yah I know…but, I mean..." He set the bottle down, "Would we be talking, here, if wasn't for the…dreams?"

"…No." Everything in the room went quiet, but she could still hear the small, background noises from outside. More so then maybe she should.

"Hey!" She looked up. He yet again fidgeted a little. "In case, you know, you're worried about it. I forgive you…well, not you-you. But you know…for doing me in." He then started up, biting on a little bit of tongue sticking out. "It wasn't really you-you either. But…yah."

She blinked, but then she understood, "Oh...sorry." She was surprised that she felt a little bad. More then a little bad, but it was a strange feeling. She felt guilt, but in a fantastic sort of way. In her coma, she did remember some events. The death of the other members were there and stronger then an other scenes. Though at the time _he_ did not care.

Besides one of them.

"Jeez, already said I forgive." He made a grasp for his drink, then grinned after taking a sip, "Oh, you want to meet everyone?" He then slummed a little, "Oh yah, I have to ask permission first. But um…oh! You can meet IV." He moved his water away from him yet again and grabbed a piece of paper, "Actually," He un-capped a pen with his mouth, letting the top stay on his lips as he continued to speak, "He's my uncle. I'm half Indian on my papa's side; my mom is, like, English or whatever. So he's my mom's brother. Kinda funny: But again…yah, he'll wanna meet you." He gave the paper to her. She could see numbers on it. She grabbed it and looked over the address and phone number. It also had a smile face in the corner. "Oh ummm." He pulled out some slips from his pocket. "Coupons. So you know, will visit. Will you visit?"

"Yah." She was not lying, but didn't really know if she would.

He beamed, "Well, if you are curious, I know pretty much everyone that we know about is around. Not the Superior. But that…Oh! Talk to my uncle about it!" He messed with her hair. She frowned and straitened it all back out. "Oh yah, you are you!"

He walked her to the front. As she looked outside, she thought she saw a familiar set of dark slate shoulders and head bob away. Bu it was dark and so was he. She turned up and asked Danru about it, but he shrugged and said he did not see it.

---

She met with Vexen over a week later. It was after church; she still wore stiff and pretty clothing.

It was an office of some sort. Actually, it was one of those large building shared by many people at once for business. She was given the suite number, but gazed at the name to go with it. She started for a few moments before heading up to the office.

She was expected, but the older gentleman that greeted her looked surprised to see her, "I expected you to be…different." She had no idea if he meant herself, her clothing, or her sex. But it did not matter because she was equally surprised; the Chilly Alchemic was smaller, portlier, and lacked the long and blonde hair she could recall. No, it was a pepper and beginning to bald. His eyes were the same green, but with almost a bit of pleasure, she noticed they were much smaller even with the spectacles hanging off his nose.

"Should I leave?" In the dreams, she knew him a little. He was not a pleasant fellow to know. With a heart and a consciousness, who knew?

"No." He held out a hand. "I'm…curious as why you're here. As in…your existence this second time around." He gestured inside. "Sit."

She walked in and observed the place. It was compacted, but neat and clean. Not the cold type of hygienic of a hospital as she expected to see. They headed out from an empty receptionist desk and headed to a more private room. There were various sitting furniture around, a window that could opened out to the third floor, and a desk with one chair behind it and three in front of it. When she took a seat in the middle chair, he went into a small bathroom to the side. He came out with a glass of water. He set it in front of her and while he moved to the front of his desk, he asked, "What's your age?"

"My age?" She grabbed the drink, looking inside it a little. She did not think he put anything in it. But she had to wonder.

"Yes, your age. To make sure you aren't lying." He took a seat.

"I'm sixteen."

"I suppose then the occurrence started when you were fourteen?" He grabbed a note pad.

"Yes."

"And ended when you were fifteen?" He began to write.

"I…yes."

"You hesitated." He looked up at her.

"I…was in a coma for a couple of months." She was not quite sure if she should share or not. Then again, what could he do now with this information?

"Really." It was not a question, but an observation.

"I was…the months 'I' started to become…whole."

"Ah…interesting." He made no move to write this piece of information down, but she knew every word would be studied later. "Forgive me, but my 'memories' ended before your own time."

"Yah…that, that's right." Earlier dreams flashed before her eyes. It unnerved her a little how frank he was being. But, she wasn't really scared. She really could not give it a name. But an emotions like nervousness but not quite as fearful.

"Don't worry. Even if I'm behind, I'm still ahead all at once. A whole decade and all. You would have been only nine." He commented almost lightly. "Well, I suppose my youthful nephew set you here to explain my guess. Would you like me to explain a little on the dreams?"

She nodded.

"The dreams start at the age when yourself, _them_, a past life-however you wish to call it-became a Nobody. And only that time. Though if at the moment you dreamed at they thought about their past, then those details are also remembered." He glanced at her in a similar manner the musician did: Pure study. "You…never had your memories, so-"

"In the coma…I had flashes of what…he thought." She stated slowly, feeling uncomfortable. This bit of herself; this was the first time she spoke freely about it. Even more so then to her sister, "Only until I fully became a part of him did I wake up…"

"I see…there is a 'yet' to this end?" He took off his glasses and crossed his arms.

"I think I still dream beyond this point, but can't remember them clearly if at all. But I feel...like...the feelings I had before my more active ones started.

The old man made a noise in the back of his throat then he responded, "You may have some echoes of that original self. Your essence slept at the time, but could be conscious of certain senses experienced and then carried over." He set the eyeglasses down. "You know what REM sleep is?"

"Yah…that's when you dream."

"You know what the brain looks like when this happens?"

"Not really…" She remembered something she was told and decided that it would be wise to share it, "In my coma, that's what they said I was in. Or looked like it…which is strange for a lot of coma patients."

"Fascinating." She really had no idea if he found it truly fascinating or he was putting on airs, "Well, no one can really give an explanation on why we dream. Most agree that as sleep, regular deep sleep, is good for the physical aspect of the body and brain, dreams are healthy for the psyche. There are several theories to how dreams may be created. One states that they are a reflection of your daily life and the worries in it. That's the problem-focused theory. Like the typical standing in front of your class in only your underwear, which could symbolize vulnerability to social life or to a test. Some think it is a pure cognitive one. These are more of a replay daily life and may be altered a little, but are about fixing problems. Taking the example from above; you would dream about taking the test, just without any embarrassing situation. One of the theories list as subconscious worries manifesting in a saga. More of a…psychoanalytic approached. I cannot think of examples at the moment, but more like characters or figures in dreams represent people in your life and the subconscious wishes to them. A fourth is dreams that are created due to sensor depravation in sleep. Since you cannot experience reality to sleep, higher perception has been more or less shut off. The brain will then make up for this loss and randomly spark in areas of the mind. Such as you have the dream where the pumpkin starts singer children's songs with floated coke bottles dancing in the air while you jump from roof top to roof top to get to a wedding performed by a blow-dryer. These dreams have no meaning; they are just your brain compensating." She opened her mouth to say something, but rather not question about the strange example of a dream he gave, so she choose not to interrupt him, "Now, everyone seemed to experience each of these types of dreams once in a while, hence why these are all only theories. And it's rather hard to prove if any of these are true. As for our phenomena and my personal opinion, it is somewhat of a mix of the second and fourth examples. For some reason when the outer sensors closed, sometimes something else opens, but the dreams are perfectly linear. Or if you wish to be a little more colorful, a nice "spiritual gate" opens. But these do not affect deep sleep. No, the scans prove that."

"Scans?"

He smiled and for a moment, she felt a little scared. It held a familiar glaze to it. She suddenly thought that it would not matter since she could out-run him. "Sleep reading of the brain. Night terrors, such as walking in one's sleep actually happen in the deeper stages of sleep. Dreams, whether regular dreams or nightmares, happen in REM sleep. My nephew and I volunteered…and perhaps others. I suppose I am not aloud to say. Either way, the memories only appeared in REM sleep. Any questions?"

She read the desk tag of Dr. Morris. "What do you do?"

"I'm a psychiatrist."

---

"I forgot to ask him about the Superior." She confessed to the guitarist/sitarist some time after.

"What?" He paused in his practice.

"I forgot to ask."

"Oh." The man shrugged. "Ask him again."

"No."

"Why not?" He now pouted.

"I just don't feel…comfortable." She did not feel like explaining it, especially him. Their blood was too close now. Besides, it is hard to explain that she would not be comfortable having her psyche explored by this particular person. Or at least who he had been.

"He's a nice guy! No like before." It surprised her at his outburst, half because he guessed dead on. But the reason why he made the outburst did not surprise her.

"Just tell me." She was getting upset. It was not as if she had any obligation to stay here.

"Oh…well, he might not be around because…we would probably have found him or something. And um…" He tapped the side of his instrument, "Something to do with his element or something. And…well, think about it."

"Think about what?"

"DO you believe I is here?"

"No." She blinked and visible pause. She needed to think. She wondered why she actually was positively sure about this. What did that small word come out so easily?

No, she knew why. Because she could remember.

"Yah…I think so, too. I know he's not around. But I don't know why. And then there's-Oh, just talk to him about it!" He seemed almost uncomfortable with the issue.

She felt it at least. So she assumed he did, too. She still answered, "I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't like him." She hated how angry she felt. Then she nearly bit her tongue. She said the wrong tense, "I mean, I don't like him.

Too late as the twenty-year old something rolled his eyes and huffed, "Oh, it's not the same now. You are just like him!"

"Who?"

"Oh." He paused, then shrugged. "Someone else. You'll probably end up finding him. I know when he wants to; he'll come and find you." He went back to his music. "Especially you."

---

She went back to the bar and saw the black boy there. No, more like man. He had to be at least Danru's age. He played pool again and by himself again. She took her seat by the window.

"Why do you play by yourself?"

He did not stop playing, but answers, "I hustle."

"Hustle?"

His eyes rolled to her. His expression almost looked annoyed. "Hustle. If you don't know what it means then I'm not explaining it." He struck the solid yellow ball.

"I know what it means." She was a little surprised at how aggravate she felt. In fact, it made her want to point out moral flaws in the word, "Isn't it illegal?"

"Well, betting is illegal. But if you aren't as skilled as you appear to be…that's just 'the sword fight.'" He chalked the cue stick.

"'The sword fight?'"

"You know, off of the _Princess Bride_. The whole gig of them fighting with their right hand when they are actually left handed. They weren't as great as they let each other believe." He switched his body around to the opposite side and aimed the solid dark red-brown ball into a side pocket.

"I never saw Princess Bride." She kicked her legs out from her seat as a distraction.

Now he stood straight up, but leaned on his stick. He looked her up and down. "You kidding? Everyone's seen _Princess Bride_. Even boys watch the movies, and the title has 'Princess' and 'Bride.'"

"I still haven't seen the movie." She replied flatly.

"Alright, alright." He waved the stick a bit before pointed the stick at her, "Look, it maybe morally wrong, but I still get paid and if the suckers fall for it, they do." He moved back to the table.

"Well, I'll make sure to never play with you."

The man let out a sigh. "Wouldn't play you."

She frowned a little. "Why not?"

"Because kid, I just told you I hustle. I can probably guess your income is still through your mama and daddy and I know you ain't a sucker."

She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, "Why not?"

He leaned over the table and hit the solid orange-red ball in another corner pocket. "Call the black ball for me, will yah?"

---

The first thing the doctor did was hand her an article. "Read." He tells her.

She didn't question and took the paper. The article was a newspaper clip, a little crinkled and taking from two sections that had one of those small face pictures with it. The man in it had a lumber-jack beard and long, wiry hair. She would take him for a hippy, but his cold gazed made her think twice. The second piece appeared to actually be the first part of the article. On it were the assortment of various face pictures organized and cut to fit. They were all of different people. Some were in black and white, but most of them had smiles on their face. She skimmed each part, and could figure out what the article entailed; a few people and a family being slaughter and about the murder that did them in. There was a trial, and the defendant was sentenced for it. One of the sentences she had to stare at for a few moments: it was "cannibalism."

"I don't…what is it?" She was thinking, 'why show me this?'

"Samuel was my patient oh…under a decade ago. He was diagnosed with various metal aliments already in high school. I wasn't his original doctor." He took a deep breath. "No, I became his doctor when he turned twenty-one. He had very vivid dreams. Mine started a year or so before that. I also started looking for information in the secret meaning about my dreams as well as others who may have shared them." He paused and looked at the paper in her hands, "You understand so far?"

"Yes."

"Repeat the information."

"What?"

"Repeat the information." It really annoyed her how he said it exactly the same tone as he did _before_.

She huffed and looked at the picture of the man, "That guy was crazy…or "diagnosed with problems," and I'm guessing he had dreams while he was crazy, but the dreams were not from insanity…unless we are all insane."

"I assure you, yourself and everyone you have met is quite sane."

She glared at him, "So some how, you found out about his dreams and he became your patient."

"Precisely. More so since you have guessed ahead by only the clues I've given." He took another deep breath, "I was thrilled. Another person like me. As you know, I was one of the first six and my dreams have been going on for only a couple of years, so I could assume it would be six others, if my hypothesis had been right."

She interrupted him, "One through seven?"

"Ah, glad to see you are still bright. Yes. To be specific, it was VII." He took a sip of something from a glass she did not noticed was near him. It looked clear and probably potent. "We were not close as 'before,' but we became close such as a doctor and a patient." His expression turned troubled. "On reflection, he was enjoyable to speak to as soon as I got him on proper medication. He wanted to become a park tour guide or he had a dream for joining the military, but he had medication alarms and stressful situations were not safe for his disorder." He stood up, cup in his hand as he looked to be speaking to a crowed, "A girlfriend of his convinced him to get off of the pills…he remained well because of them." He shook his head sadly. "Unlike when he first experienced breakdowns-his diagnoses came sometime before his dreams-these new delusion included him as Saïx, but only more so." He sat his cup down and he cleaned his glasses on his vest for a moment before putting them back on his face. She waited patiently. "He only came to see me once during this time, wondering if I would help him again." He took his seat. "I told him to get on his medication."

"I only found out about what happened to him. He was involved in some unrelated weapons possession change where he was also accidentally injured. His fingerprints were linked to a string of serial killings. I did not believe it until I heard about the deaths; the killer took the hearts." She felt a little sick and set the article down. "He died a couple of years ago in a psyche ward; caught a bad case of TB. I had to be a witness at his case. At his incarceration, I had fear of suffering from insanity due to these visions like Samuel did." He grabbed his glasses again. "More so when it became apparent my younger sister's graduating son experience his own set of dreams." The man gave that oh-so-familiar crooked smile. "Luckily, I only have a bit of OCD and Danru probably has ADHD." The man's shoulders finally dropped and his body language returned to being his present self. "Any questions?"

"What happened to his girlfriend?"

The good doctored seemed surprised by the question, but let a chuckle out and answered, "If you mean…no, she was unharmed through all of this. The woman was one of those purest children who thought anything not grown in the ground was poison. She skipped the border some time before Samuel came to me." He to a sip of his drink then set it down and stared the girl down. "So, any other questions?"

"Did you know it was him? Like, how he acted? Was it apparent?"

He put his glasses down and looked to be pouting his lips up, but more then likely indicated he was deep in thought. The lips looked rather flushed against his graying bearded. "I think…there are familiarities in ourselves before we received any visions. Take my nephew. He's always been a jubilant child. Very excitable. Yet he did calm down somewhat after experience some of his…experience. Then again, he decided to become serious about being a musician during the whole time instead of presuming a more serious occupation." The doctor himself looked a little upset over the choice.

"I meant, now that you know everyone else is around…just by looking at someone, could you know if they were another member?" She wanted to be sure. Because she might just know. She was hopeful about it.

The man visibly pondered on this. "I suppose…Yes. Yes, when I met Brain, I knew it was him; Danru sent him over and let me have guess about it."

--

She walked to the bar. The young man was at his stool and took a drink and lit a smoke. She would take her usual seat by the window, but she felt bold today. She took the seat next to him at the bar. Ever since she saw him two months ago, she knew something. A familiarity she had no name for. But now she could give a guess. She could make an assumption. She knew who he could be.

And she hoped it was true.

She ordered her soda and neither said anything. She knew she might need to say something first. She needed an ice breaker. She looked at the liquid and had a flash.

"You ever heard of Melodious Nocturnes?"

"Sure." His voice, she noticed for the first time, lacked a familiar nasal quality or a voice that spoke with swollen cheeks. It's lower, but held the same airiness.

"You know the guitarist?" Her throat felt dry.

"Something like that." He took a very long drab.

She had to swallow. She never liked smoking or being around someone who smoked, but right now, on and around him, it looked too natural. More natural to her then the skin he wore.

"You…know why his band is called that?"

He made no reply, just put out the cigarette. She felt upset. This is not how it was suppose to be. She imagined it would be different. It should be different. She closed her eyes and just decided to take the plunge. "What's your-"

"You want to learn how to play pool?" He let go of the white cylinder and leaned over the table, mumbling ahead instead of looking straight at her.

"What?"

"I said, do you want to learn to play pool?" His eyes finally turned to her. She noticed they were a very dark hazel, almost a brown color: The ring around the iris was a dark green, while the center circling around the pupil splotched various shades of grassy with tan spots mixed together.

They weren't the eyes she wanted to see. This was not the answer she was looking for.

"Okay."

But did it matter?

* * *

Some other helpful hints incase you did not understand it:

If it list as _he_, it means a mention to her thinking or speaking about Roxas.

If it list as he, it means a mention to her thinking or speaking about Sora.


	2. With just a little mark

The second chapter. Unlike most of my other stories, I write these in a journal first, then copy it from there to here. This is a planned four chapter story, but in the middle of the third chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. I do own the idea behind this story, as in how the group reincarnated.

---

Summer meant more freedom. She graduated her supposed junior year (thought she really was behind and only had enough credits to be a sophomore) and started to think about her senior year. Actually, college skimmed her mind more then anything. She felt panicked at every advertisement sent to her house.

Her sister knew what **she **wanted to do. Well, not a specific occupation. But what the other girl wished to do included drawing picture, or dinging clothes, drafting, making posters, organizing something; anything that used colors and hands and eyes for a rough draft.

She once thought she had plenty of time to think about what she needed to decide to do with her life. She doubted being a professional ball would be her choice. She liked playing, but never wanted a career. Plus even now, she only hit past the five foot two inches mark. Then again, she could not think of anything else to do.

Maybe she could follow her father and become a chemical engineer or even become a teacher, like her mother. Both options made her frown.

"Do like what all kids do; get a Fine Arts Degree and decide after that." Mr. Brain's sagely advice did not help her, either. She made no comment about the degree. Not because she did not find it a sound or an unsound plan, she just felt nothing needed to be said.

Since summer, she told her family was looking for a summer job and landed one quickly. Only her sister knew where she went and whom she visited.

She invited her sibling once, but her lovely other explained to her it was not **her** place, that **she** never was a long part of it. Though the twin never minded anyone else knowing who **she **was and that **she** was about; Brain, if he dropped her of, would wave to the shy twin and the shy twin would wave back. The good doctor asked if she would visit but after the message was replied back with a no, he nodded in understanding. Danru gave goodies and other incentives to have both girls at one of his performances since the slightly younger girl wanted to see what a real sitar looked like. **She** told him **she** would think about.

Her first and current occupation did not seem like a future for her, either. It could be said she worked at the gun shop. She cleaned the weapons and cases, organized rounds, and looked at various other little purchases that could be found in a gun shop. Some of the weapons were difficult to use. When he first asked her to help around the shop, she felt nervous but played as if it was natural for her to carry a gun like a third arm. He probably saw through it, but made no comments.

The next day, he took her behind his shop and taught her how to hold and load a small handgun "properly."

Two or three days a week, she would clean guns for about four hours. She once asked if he made a lot of money do this. He smiled and said if he wanted to make money, he would be selling guns illegally.

She also spent one day a week at least at the bar. They never had a set meeting date, so half the time she would sit alone for an hour before leaving. He probably did the same. She hoped. She wanted to think he did. Because she did.

They would talk quietly, mostly her talking about normal life and things she heard on the news. She never mentioned the gun shop owner, she never meant her sister. He equally never talked about the guitarist at the coffee shop or his eccentric uncle. They never brought it up.

But she wanted to.

It felt like her life was split in two: Her home life, centered around school and the ball while the new one she developed after running away to a gun store and now hung around a crowed on grown-ups. Ironically, it was the older one.

Yet with this tall stranger, who should never be so much of a stranger, it was suppose to be different. Between them, she wanted it to be different. No, not really her…but _him_.

It was not if her dreams self and her real self were different. She was _he_. Maybe not even fully that. Before, when it was her and her sister dealing with these visions, she could acknowledge them but not believe herself to be _him _to a fault. When she found out there were others, the others before, they may not wish to talk about it but she could tolerate the idea it could be real. She also could tolerate them.

She knew what he was. And she was positive he knew what she was. She wanted him to say something about it. She wanted him to tell her she was not the only one of the two of them who knew it. Not for her sake…

But for what he did and what he did for _him_.

Her stomach growled. She ate before bed last night, so she decided to skip breakfast in the morning. But now she needed to eat. She sighed and reached for her pocket.

A poke on her shoulder and she looked over. Her friend chuckled, smirked, and shook his head. "The food here is crap. Come on, I'll buy you a real meal."

She shrugged and tucked her allowance away. They left the familiar bar with her trailing after him or to the side of him. She asked where he was going. He shrugged and said it was a few blocks away and the kid needed to be patient. She never argued about any "pet names" she was called, because it was the closest thing she could get to familiarity. She asked where he worked, if he worked besides hustling pool Friday nights. He laughed and said he worked night as a stocker for a mom and pop Italian store, sometimes cooking in the pizza room. He asked where she got her bit of change. She licked her lips and said allowance for this and that. She received sixteen dollars a week. He asked why sixteen dollars. She said it was because her father saw a news report, which said allowance was good for money management training, and should be paid by age. He mumbled about how his mama didn't believe in allowances around a light cigarette. She despised that he smoked and gave her second hand smoke, yet it belonged to his character, which made her hate it more. Even if she could give the excuse of the smoke bugging her, what could she say out here? No, she chose to look away and roll her eyes.

That was when she noticed the man. The dirty man. She never saw a homeless person as she knew them in real life, but she figured he must be homeless. Even on such a hot day, this man wore a jacket and a hat. But then he took off his hat and started turning to the two of them.

His face…it reminded her of a picture of Vlad the Impaler. Not Dracula from the movies and book, but the real man with a thick mustache and a boney chin and dark, oily hair that was back in a ponytail. Her teacher stressed the issue as well as stressed that the supposed "weaknesses" of vampires came from an actual blood order that had nothing to do with ungodliness, but a missing enzyme.

He did not scare her, as he looked rather non-threatening. Plus he clearly hid a booze bottle in a bag and the dark, dirty patches if fifth clashed against otherwise pale skin.

She paused in her step and touched her friend into stop talking about this crap movie he saw on the other night. He did not appreciate being cut off, she knew this. But she pointed ahead. He glared in annoyance, and then saw the man and she saw his cigarette nearly fall out of his mouth. He rolled his stick in his mouth and glared. "Dammit." He said clearly around his tobacco and slid his arm flat around her shoulder. She tensed, but did not fight it. He was not stopping her or grabbing her hard, just guiding her away.

"Hey Dud!"

His breath hissed but dragged them down the road a little faster. She wondered if "Dud" was a nickname and if they were going to start running. The old man, on the other hand, had no problems going into a jog. He eventually got ahead of them and kept perfect miming with his backward steps with their forward steps. "Dud" finally stopped and refused to let go of her. Then he pulled her back slightly; she had to take a step back and he took a step forward. It was just subtle, but there. "What do you want?" He barked harshly.

The man smiled, showing he had all this teeth, though a thin line of plaque hung to the gums. "Can't a man talk to his cousin?"

"You ain't my cousin."

"Ah, don't be like this. I consider you and your whole family my cousin. I love my baby girl's family."

"What do you want?" Her gaze switched between the two. She did not know if she should understand any of this. Or if she should be here.

"Oh, just a little bit of this and that, this and that." He waved the bottle around, grinning and kept the words in an almost song-like quality.

It only made the younger male madder. "I'm not givin' you no mo' money." He took a deep breath. "Does Abrina know you drunk again?"

"Oh, let's not worry the poor child. My girl has enough on her shoulders to worry abut her old man." Soon he grinned again and reached into his pocket. "Besides, I'm not asking you to simply give me the money. We can…for it. You like to gamble, don't you?" The words would have been smooth as silk if the voice did not sound like a husk.

"No." The boy's face-hardened even more.

Those dark eyes settled on her instead. He grinned at her. "Well, how about this lovely here? Wish to test your luck, dear?"

This was when she realized that she was meeting Luxord. The shock of this made her mouth fall slightly, but no sound came out. She had no idea if her friend figured it out that she knew or just found him offensive, but when the cards came out, "Dud" bated them away. They scattered all over the sidewalk and the road. The older man was the one offended now. "Dammit. Damn you!" He bent down, playing 52 pick-up. His bottle and bag clattered away and rolled, spilling some of the content. "Dammit, you spill it." He stopped picking up the cards and grabbed for his bottle. With it in his grasp, he simply plopped down on the ground. "I think I need a drink." He mumbled quietly and took a sip, then started to pick up the cards around him. She could only watch, not sure if she should do something or not.

"You got a cell phone?" She turned and looked at her dark-skin companion.

"Um…yah." Without questioning him, she gave hers up.

"Thanks." He opened it, then turned to the self proclaimed cousin. "Watch him and make sure he doesn't die or something equally stupid." He walked a distance away.

She had not idea what to do, so she just watched him. The man was reduced to mumbling, picking a card up, looking at it intently, mumbling more, putting the card in a small pile he already made, shuffling it, more mumbled, taking a swig of what he had in the bag, and repeating the process. Even though it was a pattern, none of it was orderly.

She occasionally looked back at the keeper of her borrowed cell phone. He made large hand motions here and there, but soon he closed the phone. She turned back to her charge. The man continued his actions. Slowly but surely, he gathered up the rest of his cards, or at least the ones near him. He appeared to decide if it required a certain amount of effort to grab the next card.

After he gathered up all the cards near him, he kept shuffling them repeatedly. She had not idea if she should do more or less. She was not use to watching a grown-up.

"Dud doesn't date white girls." The obscurity of the statement paused her more then the shock of him speaking again. She looked at him, instead of just looking where he was. The words still spilled out in partly mumbles, "Probably because h doesn't want to disappoint his mama." He stopped scuffling and gave her an once-over. "I doubt you are even out of high school. You play with him or something'? Probably good in an old-bait-and-switch thing. Why aren't you in school?" She did not know him well and already found him annoying and embarrassing. Yet, she saw he bore a grin while he spoke and could picture that shag of hair replaced with a blond buzz-cut. She pondered if his dark eyes were not glazed over, would they be as clear as blue eyes from before?

Later she would wonder if she looked like someone else for a moment when she glared at him because he said almost too-clearly, "Aren't you a boy?" The voice, laced with a glee in it, as if it was a joke. "No…but maybe?" He gave her a once over, then centered on her face. "No, but you are young. Might be the right age…" He took a careful swig. "When you sleep, do you have interesting nightmares?"

She was pulled back a bit and stared into hazel eyes.

"Stand at the corner." The younger man did not push her; more like twirled her to the direction she needed to be. Or maybe he just circled around her; she was not sure. Either way, she did not wish to be brought in the middle of whatever was going on with them.

She walked to the corner, ignoring the quiet yells and slurs behind her. Oh, she was curious and had some questions, but knew what happened had nothing to do with yellow-eyed monster discovered in the depths of unconsciousness.

She sighed as she leaned against a post, occasionally looking back every now and then. Sometimes they were speaking, sometimes not. She wondered how close they were related. The drunkard said they were cousins, but Dud as he appeared to be called, said they were not.

She wanted to know, but did not want to be part of the discord.

She looked at her phone and scrolled down to find the number he called. The area code was of a nearby area. She quickly saved the number under the letter "A." She looked back at saw her friend just glaring at the fallen man.

She must have daydreamed, because she did not see the beat-up car dive on past her. She only saw it pull up to the side. The older boy already walked over to it.

Out stepped a girl, no, a woman. No…a young woman, probably around his age. **She** started to walk closer to him, and then **she** stepped around him to the older fellow. If her friend had any annoyance at the situation, she did not pay attention: Her eyes were on the other female. The girl-woman looked down at the man and Rosaline knew this fact: This was his daughter. Their manes were identical: Thick, long, dark, with waves. Only the girl's hair loot neater and cleaner. The woman shook **her** head and told "Dud" to put thefather in the car. He nodded and came over to grab the drunk. The lady ran over back to the car and opened the back door. Even though he was older, it took little effort for the younger man to toss the older man in the car. The door would have closed, but suddenly the old father shouted, "My cards, my cards!"

"Screw the damn cards." Her hustler hissed. But the girl paused and looked around. A bite of **her** lip, then **she** jogged over the distance. **She** knelt down and started to gather up the stray deck.

She did not know why, but seeing the act and seeing the lack of help, **she** received shook something in her. The man in the car just called for the cards and though he asked the kneeling girl to stop, the twenty-something male made no move to help.

Therefore, she did.

There was no wind today and hardly anyone else riding a car down the street. In fact, hardly anyone walked down the block. Those who did ignored them or crossed over to the other side of the street. She knelt down close to the woman-child. She noticed that the other was very beautiful: **Her **skin was flawless, dark, and colored with a near burnt-red tone to it; **her **cheeks were high, yet round, looking to be jolly forever. **Her** wide mouth pulled tight, wrapped around one side to the other. **Her** full, pouty lips were slightly stained with some sort of gloss and her nose was wide with a gentle, sphere horizon and a gentle slope vertically. She wondered where the notion of beauty came from a tiny, point, sheer-drop nose.

"Let me help you." She said, gathering up some other cards. There eyes met and she saw a familiar hazel.

But something else passed between them. Not like the feel between this woman's male family members. No, this was an understanding between daughters. She saw the embarrassment and sadness and she felt the grateful for her own father; he never put strain on her like this. But she understood that maybe he was not perfect, but the woman still loved him and he maybe he had his moments or maybe he was better when **she **was child and on how **she **wanted him back like that.

"Thank you." The voice came out strong with a sweet pitch to it.

It did not take long to finish finding the card. She knew there were supposed to be fifty-two cards, but she never counted. Her hands brushed against the other girl's hand when she returned the cards. She received a smiled. She hoped she gave an identical smile back.

The girl stood up, turned around, and walked to the car, then held out the cards to the man. He took the cards, smiled with glee, then gratitude and said, "That's my girl. 'His girl' moved to the front of her car. **She** glanced at her cousin (brother, family?) with a broken expression before climbing into the driver's side.

She watched the car pull away before she looked at her companion. His expression held sadness and anger. It looked too familiar. She felt some of that anger suddenly. "Who was that?" She asked.

"My cousin and her father." She already figured it out, but he confirmed; they are related, but not like Randu and the doctor. Their connection was through that one girl. "Bastard." It was clearly for the man. Some how she felt rage with that statement.

"You called your cousin a daughter of a bastard." It was a terrible line. She knew that. It was weak bait, but she wanted to.

"Fuck him. Nasty-ass drunk, putting her through every kind of crap." He mumbled and finished the cigarette. He dropped it down and stomped it out. "She has to support his ass."

She wanted to get him boiling. "She doesn't have to. She just wants to be a good child. It's her choice"

His dark skin flared. She never saw such a color on lighter skin. It almost intrigued her. She kept the smile back because even though she wanted to set him off, she did not want his anger at her quite yet. "She doesn't!" He let the words loose, "She knows better! Dammit, if she knew what he…" But he ended the words there. The thoughts he had probably related to a family issue, but they might not.

This was the issue she wanted to hit. She knew this could bring a downfall to whatever they established, but she felt such anger… "It's X, isn't it?" He visibly flinched and she watched him cool rapidly. It felt good. He turned his head away from her. "Admit it." She called quietly.

He took a deep breath, "Dammit, what do you want from me?" He asked, almost in pain. But she wanted to cause a little pain. No, she wanted to cause a lot of pain. Just cause something to change.

She answered, "I want you to admit it. That you saw and experience something."

His face took on an ugly look. His lips pulled tight. His eyes narrowed. His nose flared.

She loved it.

Then it appeared everything dropped. His head lolled down and his hands slid in his pocket. She though he gave up. He never gave up, though. That made her feel betrayed.

"Just say it." She was not sure what she wanted him to say, but just some way to know he had his own set of dreams. Just so she could finally know.

But he took a few circular steps away, but not actually leaving, just avoid. She felt desperate to say something.

"Axel."

He paused mid stride and she realized she screw up. She broke some sort of taboo. He finally looked at her. No longer did she see him. No, in that moment she saw lighter skin, a sharp nose, so much thinner, hair spread out as a mane of real flames down his head and back, and eyes a perfect green. She also knew if she could see through his pupils, she would not see herself. No, she would see a boy just a little younger then her, dark-blonde hair that was spiny and curly all at once, with large eyes colored like the sky. She was not ready for it, because everything stopped.

Then she turned around abruptly. She had to get away. Each of her steps were shaky. She just thought of the obscurity of it all. They were just dreams. What right did she have to force him to acknowledge it? It did not mean anything. It should not mean anything.

She did not run so fast, but she was breathing erratically. She could not get enough air in her lungs. She felt cold. She should feel warm, but it was too chilly.

Something stopped her from moving. She did not fight it, but she tried to will her feet to move more. She looked down, wondering why.

The same moment she saw the dark arms wrapped all around her body, she heard a whisper in her hair, "I'm sorry, Roxas."

No, she was not Roxas. She just had been. It made sense at that moment. She already knew who he was when he spotted her, even if it was for a moment. Not like the other four. Her sister she understood why she never pinpointed it; those memories had not restored enough to realize the connection or hidden under a lifetime of familiarity. The others she needed that clue or a little direction to. She remembered him playing the first day.

She still had to take several breaths, but her logic was working. She had a panic attack. Okay. She was okay. Even if she fainted, she had faith in the arms around her. She felt some sort of weird glee; she felt his heartbeat pounding into her back. It felt good.

She licked her lips and said still winded, "It's Rosaline now."

She felt the chuckle and knew it was fine now. He let go of her and she turned to look up at him. She suddenly hated the fact he was still much taller then her. But only humors. It still did not matter, just a nice annoyance.

"Alright. I'm Daniel. Just…don't call me Dud."

---

She was surprised when her sister asked her to take her to see Danru. She asked why, but a smile and shrug was the answer she received.

As she expected, he greeted both girls with enthusiasm. It was before the house gig. She was surprised when she saw Minerva keep him close, then whisper something in his ear. He nodded, held up a pause finger to her when Rosaline wanted to ask about their private conversation, and the two left her alone.

She felt out of place. Coffee places were not her thing. Actually, this was more of her sister's thing. The girl might like this more.

Her twin came out five minutes later. They hugged and she was informed they would be staying for the rest of the night.

They both waved after the show ended and when he asked if they needed a lift home, they both declined. She did not opposed to another hug good-bye, but felt uncomfortable. When it was her sister's turn, the strawberry blond seemed amused and returned it without problem.

On the way back, she asked what her other wanted.

The longer-haired girl smiled an almost sad smile and said, "Just something personal. I only received half of what I wanted, though."

---

She was getting better a pool. She already had steady hands and always good at math.

Daniel smirked. "Me and you are gonna hustle."

"What?" Rosaline paused from her shot.

"Yah." He perched himself on the table, "People are getting' use to me. But a l'il shorty like you? Ah, them fouls are gonna bet high."

"No." She stated with a grin and made her shot. The ten ball in a side pocket, as she predicted.

"I'd share 50/50." He offered. She simply smiled. "60/40?" She started to laugh. "70/30?"

"I think you forget; I'm not even eighteen." She stood back up, leaned on her stick, and looked straight at him.

"Ah, yah-yah. It didn't matter before, though." She was pleased that he no longer hesitant to make reference to it so much.

But neither was she, "You also used wheel spokes. That didn't matter either." She grinned as she took a bench, already deciding she was done for now. It was not particularly funny of a comment, but it would get something rolling.

The man spurred, but already got back on the horse, "Don't get me started on retarded-looking weapons." He mumbled to himself a few choice words and decided to take over her game. "So, you gonna come play or what?"

"I'm still not legal, remember?" She really was not interested. Gambling was something she wished to not invest any time of her life.

He gathered up all the balls again, set them right, and broke the whole lot of them, smirking when one fell in. "Yah…" He paused and looked at her, only briefly licking his lips. "You still in school?"

"Yah."

"Alright, let's break." He joined her over her table by the window. It use to be just her seat, but now it was their seats. They already had some beverages set. Once he was seated, she took a sip. She figured he wanted to talk first.

"You got plans after school?" He asked.

"You mean, what do I do after school or what I plan to do after I graduate?"

He looked a little surprised, then smirked, "Both."

"Well, I play basket ball after school-"

"Your midget-self?" He chuckled as he interrupted her.

It only mildly annoyed her. She continued, satisfied with the kick she gave him under the table, "And I plan to go to a university after graduating." She was starting to understand him a little. He would not give out anything unless she asked. And if he wished to share something, he would ask her about the subject first, just to see if she would ask him back. It was fine with her. At least he hardly ever changed the subject as he did a couple weeks ago. "Did you go to college?"

"Couldn't. Well, coulda, but, I suppose. Money wasn't the problem. Probably coulda got a loan or something.' But Mama needed help with the bills. And I was the man of the house. The man of the house gets a job." He turned away and shrugged, looking out the window.

She paused, before asking, "Did you graduate?"

"Yep, 'least I did that."

"Means you can go to a school later." She felt a sense of relief. She did not want to hold anything over him or brag. "Maybe save up enough money without needing loans."

"Let me guess. You gots some scholarships." He remarked.

He did not sound bitter, "Some. I have one from middle school for being..." She was about to say her title, but decided "Little Torian" sounded rather childish, "Top of my class."

He laughed, "Well, aren't you a good girl. You aim for top this time?"

"No."

"Why not?" He voiced read only slight interest, but she could almost see a little cover in his stance, ready to lean over if she needed a touch.

She concentrated on her glass, "I…" She did not know quiet how to word it. She chose the easier way, "My dreams started in freshman year."

"Ah…" The man crossed his arms behind his head. "Guess it wasn't an issue for me. Mine started in the senior year. Already was just skatin' by."

They paused.

She hated the paused that followed sometimes. It was much easier, but still hard. Still should not be this hard. It only lasted a few moments, with everyone else. The pause eventually filled. But with him, it could last for the rest of the time. She had to fill it. "You said…you had to work because you were the man of the house?"

"Yah…" He pondered. Before she could say anything else, he asked, "You get both a mom and a dad?"

"Yes."

"I only had my Mama."

She stared, feeling a little embarrassed.

He already grinned at her and waved his hands, "Nah, don't say anything stupid. She's a good Mama. Kept my sorry ass straight." He took a sip of beer. "Nah, from what I know of my old man, he was a dead-beat. He was out before I was born. She…she got remarried when I was 'bout seventeen. Mac was great; he treated me a'right. Didn't try to make me his son. Had a little sister. Margerie. Which is the worst name to name anything." He took another sip. "He died when she was 'bout a year old." This was the first time he looked honestly sad without the fear or anger. She had the urge to grab his hand or something. But it was not her place.

She went with her curiosity. "I didn't know you had a sister."

"Yah, she's a doll." He folded his arms with a little smile. "It's kinda fun. I just hate watchin' her in public. Everyone thinks I'm the baby daddy." He glanced over at her, all gloom gone. "You got any?"

"I have." Even though it was two words, she still stumbled over them. She never talked about her sister, not to him at least. "A…sister." She thought on how to say it without being blunt. She felt a little scared, as if she stated too directly, the secret could get out. Her sister was a private person. "My twin sister." He made an approval noise, but she went on, "She's an artist. Like…she's always been one."

"Some people are lucky like that." He commented with lightness as he took a sip.

"No…I mean." She leaned over the table and stared hard at him. "I mean…she was an artist. Even back then." She kept her gaze on him.

It took him all ten seconds to figure the riddle. His eyes opened a little wide. "Oh." Then he snorted. "Ooooh…" He slapped his leg, "Oh, of course."

She smiled and reached into her pocket. "Oh here." She pulled out her wallet. She got up and walked nest to him. She set the wallet down and opened to the center. She set a hand against his back to brace herself on her toes and used her free hand to point over to each face, "That's Minnie," The picture was taken on their last birthday, also the same time she receive the wallet.

"She don't look like you."

She smirked rudely and slapped his back a little. "We're fraternal, not identical." He made a swipe for her, but she move so it only ruffled her hair a little. "Everyone always says that."

"That's 'cause fraternal twins didn't start out-" He paused and started at the picture. His lips pouched out. "You always ware a headband."

Instantly, she reached up for the one on her head. It was simply yellow, with rhinestones decorated by her sister with one of those jewelry kits. She frowned at him, "What does that mean?"

"You got a reason for it?"

She crossed her arms. "Keeps the sweat and hair out of my eyes." She answered matter-of-factually.

He smirked, "Oh yah, you be sporty with them sparkles, huh?" He chuckled and reached for a cigarette. "C'mon, what's the real reason?"

She took a breath before looking around. She wore a headband near everyday, so it should not be an unusual question. Still felt like it. "I ware them because it useful and it is masculine and feminine all at once." She grinned.

He started at her for a moment, before out-right laughing.

"Shut up." She called with another hit, but she started chuckling.

"Good think I didn't light up let, or I'd be chocking on it." She pushed him a little, giggling while he pulled out a lighter to ignite the white stick. He stared at the picture again.

She suddenly got an idea and regretted it. She bit her lip, but still asked, "If you met your dad, what would you do?"

He blinked and stared at her. She thought she went too for, but there was no rage in his eyes. And even though they were hard, they were not directed at her. He licked his lips, moving the stick around his mouth. "Mmmmm…don't know. But I know what I would if I found out where he was."

"What?"

"I'd arson his cars." He finally lit the cigarette and took a big puff. She did not have much of a reply. She watched the little ashes turn rosy red. "I don't know why. It's like…a car is very important, but you don't hurt anyone badly with, but it screws with them. And it's not like destroying a house or something." Another big intake. "If I said me and two other guys burned a car in high school, what would you think?"

She shrugged, and then smiled. "I'd say something. Not sure what. But I wouldn't be surprised."

The man smirked. "What if I told you it was my assistant principle?"

"I'm thinking I would ask what did you do to get in trouble?"

Then he laughed again, quickly grabbing his burning paper and plant away from his mouth and coughed a little. "Ain't that the truth?"

They probably looked strange together: By age, by lifestyle, but other things. However, she hadn't felt this good in her own skin since this madness started.

---

She wondered how the secretary at school would look when she filled out the working permit when school started. Mr. Brian already agreed to let her work whenever when her (hopefully) last year of education began. She received more then she should for what she did. Her mother said she could keep working, but hoped it would not cut into her schoolwork. She told her mother she worked at a desk job and would sit down most of the time, with some time on breaks to work on her homework.

She did not lie; she ran the desk and answering the phone at the shop. Brian told her he was not quiet confidence with her handling anything that shot a bullet quiet yet.

It would technically be her junior year, but she may be able to graduate this year.

It was not quite as important as it had been

---

She finished her first course of driver's training. Now she needed to get whatever hours in. She really tried to get along with her father while driving, but she would get nervous, then she would get distracted and there would be yelling. It was nerve wrecking and uncomfortable.

It was weird to see Daniel pull up in a larger Cadillac. She never saw him drive, but figured he did. She wondered if he borrowed it. Though how she phrased it was, "You steal this car?"

He stepped out, slamming the door and smirking back while flipping her off. "No, this is actually mine." He waved at the vehicle. "It's not new, but only a couple of years old. Someone's parent got too old and too drunk to drive and they had five cars already and weren't gonna pay for another one on their lawn."

"So," Rosaline looked over the metal box with wheels, "Where are we going in it." She purposely said in feign excitement. She made sure to keep her expression flat after finishing.

He leaned against his car, grinning like a madman, "We're gonna teach yah how tah drive, girlie."

---

She remembered a few times her mother took her to feed deer. It was at a farm. It was fun watching them eat and fun just plain watching them. Her mother explained that a deer was like cow when it ate; it's teeth, which were all flat, chewed and grinded the food up instead of tearing like the sharp teeth in some other animal's mouth.

The whole day she kept looking at her canines.

They were somewhere else. She did not recognize the farmland around. Not that it mattered if they were back in that place with the deer, when the woman and children went there some years ago the deer were all gone.

This place was still a pleasant place to look; acres and acres of farm fields, little farmhouses scattered distances away, and a flat road without a car in sight. Small groves appeared, with a few sights of animals peeking out.

"Alright, get out, and take the wheel." He mumbled and already unclipped his belt. She followed suit. He got out of the car and walked in front while she simply climbed over the seat.

As soon as he hoped in, she frowned. "It's too far."

"That's because your legs are too short." She might have been more upset with him for yet another small comment, but he was smiling and already showed her where the gear level was.

It was not as stressful as with her father. The older boy never yelled at her, he was clam and did not criticize too badly. Most of the hot comments from how many times she ran off the road. Yet after every mistake she made, he simply bore a grin and encouraged her to try again. He did joke about hitting a deer or rabbit, but he quickly took it back with a little laughter. It felt like driving a boat. She made a point of telling him that five times. He just laughed and commented about her size.

After burning about a fourth of the gas, he condemned her to be fit for normal roads. She told him she wanted to stay outside a bit.

He sat on the trunk of the car, smoking while she stared up at the sky from the grass, thinking. No, not thinking. More like daydreaming, but her mind was blank. She did not even notice until Daniel snapped his fingers. "Hey." She turned to look up at him. He pointed over somewhere and she followed his fingers. She stared at her left at some horses, just left out. She smiled.

"Done with your break?" He asked, hopping off the car and dropped the butt of his cigarette. She stood up, slightly unbalanced. He paused from getting into the car for a moment. "Why…do you jingle?"

She did not quite understand, until she took a step. She was so use to the sound always with her. She never noticed it anymore since it was as common for her as breathing. Nevertheless, she saw the collection of metal and plastic and color hooked to her belt loop. She stared for a moment. "Key chains." She commented quietly, touching a few. Each one unique; some were generic, some were homemade, some looked more like fridge magnets. The scare she felt when her dreams happened was not as strong as it once had been, but it was comforting to her even now just to be able to grasp them.

"You collect them." He remarked casually and looked back at the horses. "My sister likes them glass dolls. My aunt likes those little bears…" He finally looked backed at her and noticed her just still just at the small pieces. He asked, "You alright?"

"Yah." A part of her wanted to say it was not. A part of her wanted to say the reason, but she did not want to bring it up. "I'm ready to go." She climbed back into the driver's seat; it did not feel as fun anymore.

"What did I do?" He asked as soon as he dropped in his seat. She looked at him with puzzlement at his angry tone.

"What do you mean?" She asked, not sure if she should be annoyed with him.

"Every time you get sad or some shit, you like…shut down. Act like a zombie or somethin,'" He slapped his dash-board, "Like your dog died."

She did not know if she should say why. She was not a coward. At least, she did not think so. But maybe she was. She thought about not answering. Just leave it alone and it would evaporate. It worked a lot of the time. Then they did not have to admit they might not be quite right. "I'm sitting in a damn car with a man who I met at a bar that if I saw him on the street in the middle of the side walk, my mother would tell me to cross to the other side," She almost grumbled her words, but she kept them steady while gripping the steering wheel, "And yet, here I am, driving his car for practice." She turned to look out the window, "You didn't do anything. Just…" And that was where she ended it, how she ended it. Because there were no words, she could use to begin to describe what was happening. She put the keys in the ignition, then some words did hit, and they were a good start, "I'm not afraid. I really should be. But I'm not."

The car went dead silent. She started the car and started to drive. But she heard the slight mutter, "You think you should be afraid?"

She let herself chance a look at him, then looked quickly away, only partially out of road safely. He was grinning like a smart-ass, but his eyes looked ready to spill. Probably would not, but the threat of it alone made her have to reply, "No!" She shouted out too loudly for the inside of the car, "I mean, I'm not afraid of you. At all. I wouldn't be, either."

"Yah, I know," He mumbled, still grinning. But when she looked back for a moment, he grinned with his eyes, too.

The silence came back, but when she felt safe. Rosaline looked over her key chains. She must have over thirty by now, nearer to forty. She changed them and exchanged them for better ones. She had a little draw full of them at home. The first ones she bought were cheap ones she bought at gas stations or the supper market. Then she sought after more ones that are unusual. Her sister made her one for their last birthday. He parents thought it was for the future car she wanted. The only ones she never liked were the ones with her name on it, like 'Rosy' or 'Rose.' Because those were wrong.

"I…use tah…sneak off with my aunt's lighter," He mumbled as she heard him move around in the seat next to her. She kept looking straight since she spotted a few cars coming down. The farms were receding, "And match books. But all boys are pyros when they young. That's what Gramine said. Wasin'til high school I figured out maybe there was more to it," As if to prove a point, he lit his lighter, "You jingle for the same reason."

She did not reply quickly, but after taking a big gulp she asked, "Are you afraid it might happen again?"

He stopped the flames. "I don't know. Guess it won't matter much. Though careful of that cow in the road."

"What?" She quickly made to swerve, but she saw there was no cow. "What the hell?" And he started laughing and laughing and laughing. She felt irate and pissed, "Don't scar me like that, you ass! God Dammit!"

Through tears cause by cackles, he supplied, "Gotta keep you on your toes, shorty." Then she laughed a little, yet slapped him on principle. Not too hard, since she felt better.

---

"Do you sell guns because you are afraid?"

Her employer looked up from his paper work. Background checks or something. He looked confused at the statement. Probably was. He looked around, "Is this a moral thing?"

She frowned, "What?"

"Eh," He waved his hand, "I got people who preach about gun violence and stuff. Or that twenty-two percent of people are killed by their own weapon."

"That wasn't my issue." She remarked calmly.

"I figured. Talkin' to myself." He mumbled

"I mean, do you deal in weapons because you are afraid of…the past?" She stumbled over the words she wants.

He stared her down. Not hard, but with curiosity or something like it. Then he looked tired, but almost…happy. "You know how old I am?"

She shook her head. He cracked a familiar grin. "Ah…well, I was old enough to serve in the military, complete my serviced to my country, get employment, then eventually own this store for at least five years before my dreams started." He then went back to write.

"Okay." She went over to where she was going to organize ammo.

"I practice my shots every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday because of it." She heard him remark once his back was turned.

She suddenly smiled.

---

Danru told her his office hours for the next couple of weeks. She wanted to see him. She knocked on the suite door.

"It's open." A woman's voice replied. She walked in and saw a lovely lady at the desk. The woman smiled and asked, "Is this an emergency?"

She shook her head. "Can you tell the doctor Rosaline's hear?"

"Alright," The older woman gave the page and though she did not hear the reply from the doctor, the woman smiled at her and said, "He will see you."

She smiled back and walked into the same room as before. There was the same old, portly man. She took a seat and clapped her hands together.

"What seems to be the trouble today?" He asked.

"What are you afraid of?" She asked quickly.

He looked her up and down, "What?"

"I asked…what do you fear?" She asked again.

He pondered this slightly. "I suppose I do not like splinters. I'm always afraid that I'll get one and it won't come out or it will get infected."

She licked her lips. They felt dry, "You convinced your nephew that I wasn't going to be around. He believed you, yet you don't have any proof that I wouldn't be around, yet I'm here. So, you also have no proof that he won't be around. Your nephew even said I should ask you why. But you have no idea, do you? If he's really…" She stared him down, "That's what you are afraid of."

He remained silent, but she watched him. He paled so much. It looked sickening. He opened his mouth, but she raised a hand to stop him and quickly said. "But I know he's not ever coming back." Her other finger has gripped the chair under her. She was admitting more things. It always felt hard.

"I…" He stared at not even her, "…I saw…" He sounded defeated.

"I know he is gone. You don't have to worry." She said, almost happily.

He still stayed paled and she had to turn away. She knew he would be asking more questions and she did not feel comfortable to answer. How was she supposed to show proof for it, to explain her definite yes? She was there, but it was not really her. She looked down; wishing shed had that cup of water again. Maybe she should go.

"Thank you." She glanced back at him. His flesh was back to the right color and his body fell loose. He did not even look that sick anymore.

She smiled and left.

---

I thank my beau, who loved my idea of a "Blaxel," as he named it. He gives me encouragement when I sometimes I needed it.

I also realize I might have my Danru more of a fanon personality then canon, but if he had a heart, I bet he would be pretty jovial.

Sorry for the slow updates, but this is next on my list after I finish an old project.


	3. Temperaments and Applications

Third chapter. W00t

---

There was a chance she could get into college next year. She was hoping for it. Not a lot, but she began to pride herself in academics again. It was weird to care, but not care as she thought. Her parents were looking for colleges. Her sister would be going to one close to home, but far enough away to live on her own. It was an hour drive away at the least. She would probably go there, too.

Summer was ending. School would be starting soon. She could visit a college. Maybe.

---

They had been driving today. She still had more then a season left to wait, but she would get all her hours in. She was waiting for Daniel. They were in a part of town she was not familiar with. But he knew the area, so she did not question much. He wanted to treat her or something. Right now was visiting a relative or something. He did not explain much when he left the car. It was not so bad before, but she was getting impatient. And hungry.

She opened her phone. She was happy she got him to get a phone. Actually, she found his cousin's number and gave her a call that in turn convinced Daniel to get a phone. They only talked when looking for the boy, but they also talk about him. Never the less, he got a cheap phone due to the pressure from the two of them.

She dialed his number and waited for the pick-up. It clicked and he asked, "What?"

"You know you aren't supposed to leave children in the car? We can die of heat stroke." She said with a grin.

A huff on the other end. "If you can't open the damn door, I ain't letting you drive no moh."

"Where are you?" She asked, looking around just in case she missed him.

"I'm getting the best friend chicken you'll ever had, that's where I am." She smirked. She had a joke, but she kept it to herself. Racist jokes weren't beneath or above them, but she could save it when he arrived. "Just another left and a right. And-" A pause. "Oh crap."

"What?" She asked.

"Stay in the car. I'll be there in a few minutes." He ended the call and she closed her phone, but quickly jumped out of the car. He said a left or a right, so she needed to take a right and a left, if she figured it out correctly and if Daniel did, too. She ran on auto-pilot. The right. Nothing but adrenaline and fear. The left. She saw people, but she quickly scampered back. She peeked around the corner.

Two men had Daniel cornered. They did not see her. They were older then her, but probably around his age. She looked for any weapons she could grab. She heard her friend say, "Look, take the money. That's all I got."

"What else yah got, sucka?" She saw metal pipes to her side. She grabbed one and gripped it like a bat. She could rush them and possible end up dead. She licked her lips.

Then she thought about it. She grabbed another one, holding one pipe in each hand. They were not what she wanted, but they felt perfectly balanced. The man who spoke equaled a threat; he held a knife to Daniel's throat. The other man stayed as a watch out. But he did not see her. She rode on adrenaline. No fear anymore.

Maybe she should feel guilt for hitting a man in the head that could cause permanent brain damage. But she did not. She also did not feel bad that she caught him with his back turned to her. The pipe in her left hand struck right on the side of his face. His head bobbled for a second. It looked like he was on a free-fall. She brought her right weapon to his chest. It made a terribly hollow sound. He fell.

The man with the knife stared back in shock, whether from the quick attack, the girl wielding the weapon, how quickly his friend was pounced on, or a mix. She looked at him for a second then charged. The idiot pulled his knife away from Daniel and looked to attack her with it. Must have been instinct instead of the better choice of using his victim as a shield or a hostage. Too bad her instincts were better. She swung her weapon right onto his wrist. The knife fell with a satisfactory clink. The man grabbed his hand in pain and Daniel had enough sense to get the hell out of her way. She swum and connect with his shoulder, then brought her left arm to connect with his mid-section. He groaned. Then she went for his legs.

He was down.

She spun around and saw the other man. He got up. She glared at him and took a step. He reached into his pocket and she saw something gleam. She thought it might be a gun. It was a strange feeling, knowing that if she did not get close to him she would get shot. She was not quite scared yet.

The metal object was lifted and was half-way raised to point at her, but before it was aimed, something few by her head and shot right at the hand. She saw it had been a gun and she saw what flew was a garbage can lid.

She looked back and saw Daniel with a hand grasping a top and a free hand grabbing another one. She turned back.

So it was a gun.

He was trying to get it. He tried to get it. She brought the pole down on his fingers, then on his back. He lost his balanced and she kicked the gun away. Then she brought it across his head again. A few more times until…

He was out, for good this time. She turned back and saw Daniel being attacked by the one who held him prior. She watched with almost amusement at him handling the cans like a pro; as both a shield and a weapon. The man brought another knife out and into his hand, but it never got close enough to touch. Daniel used the cans to bat it away, and brought his elbow up to cuff him in his chin. His arms circled and reaped blow after bow. Finally he got a kick in. Rosaline never knew anyone could get a kick up to someone's neck. The criminal smashed into the brick wall and fell.

Though they were both on the ground, the attackers still made sounded and made movement. Daniel looked at her with wide eyes, "Go."

She turned and bolted down the way. She was not stupid enough to look back. Not until she got to the car. She finally turned around.

He came out of the alley. He carried the gun.

With him in her vision, she hoped into the passenger side, caught her breath, and looked at the pipes in her grasp. There was blood on them. He was next to her. They looked at the gun. He emptied the clip out, and then he opened the chamber and emptied that round. She saw Mr. Brian do it all the time, but did not know Daniel would and could and do it all in ten seconds.

She was breathing still, still alive. She started laughing. He looked at her as if she was crazy, but then he started laughing. It felt good. So good.

"What did we do?" She asked, still not getting enough air in her lungs.

"We kicked ass, li'l girl. That's what we did." He held out his free palm, and she slapped it, balancing her weapons in her other hand and legs.

Their breaths came off the labor edged. She looked out of the car. "Think they'll follow?" She asked. They turned to look at each other. Daniel cussed and quickly started the car. She felt the rush again. They already skidded a few miles before she grinned. "Want to try it?"

"Try what?" He asked, body no longer twitching anymore.

"With these." She raised her pipes.

He looked at her in shock.

She grinned.

"Yes." He grinned. "Hell yah."

It would be a fun day.

---

She had to sneak out for tonight. Daniel told her he wanted her to be in a sting with her. She was not too comfortable with it, but she was certainly curious. Too curious.

He told her to dress up. His words were, "Look more girly and less threatening. And try to grow a few inches." She was thinking of not showing up, just to spite him. She instead asked her sister to help her with the 'instructions.'

Now she walked down the street. Or more appropriately, wobbled on heals that made her about three inches taller. At least she chose thick heeled platforms instead of going strait heels. She also lost the headband for tonight. Some make-up and a dress instead of slacks and she was all set. The bar wasn't their bar, but close to town. She got a girlfriend to drop her off. She was supposed to be at a party. The friend agreed to do it if Rosaline agreed to come back and give all the drunken people rides home.

She walked into the breezeway and looked at herself with the mirror provided. She looked different. She doubted she passed twenty one, though. She was a convincing enough eight-teen, but a very young eighteen. But she did not plan to order anything that needed or had proof.

She stepped into the main part and eyed him. He eyed her. She let a brief nod and took a seat next to a window. He was playing someone. She felt nervous. This was the first time she did something like this. All she had to do was look pretty and innocent. Pretty, innocent, but slightly interesting. Someone came. She only ordered water. She turned back to the table and watched Daniel was winning. He was supposed to keep his losses a little under his victories.

She watched a little. Not flirting because she did not want the man to like her as much as she wanted him to notice her. The man was tall. He was shorter then her partner, but he made up for it with some extra bulk.

She took a sip once she received her water and simply watched. She kept watching, but occasional kept her glances on Daniel from the corner of her eye. Rosaline waited for her queue.

And then it came: "Alright. If you think you can still win, I'll be willing to ante the game." Her friend gestured around the bar. "Pick me a partner."

She knew how to act. Shy, available, and without skill, but curious. Be interested enough to not say no. She took another sip. Then the mark looked at her. He grinned and she knew he bit. He nodded to her. She kept looking, but not really. Coy or something. This was her training.

"What? Her?"

"Her."

When Daniel cursed, she almost grinned. But she was taught better, she covered any lingering emotion with a napkin.

Daniel approached her. He leaned in. The man only had to think he was convincing her to play.

"So…you can just walk outright now." He said, eyeing the dress. "Then again, I'd feel tragic if some punk jumped yah."

She made sure to scowl. "I can poke out eye with the fake nails alone. I'm not very worried," Her face turned away, just as they rehearsed.

He pulled out a few bills, and then laid them out on the table. It was only a couple of singles, "Blue suits you."

She grinned; it was both on purpose and for show. "You, on the other hand, look like a criminal." She held out a hand. He shook it. She slid the bills down her top: A flirtatious act, an adult act, a perfect act. She walked over to the billiard table and grabbed a stick. "So…I hit the white ball and knock the other balls in the holes, right?" She left a frown out.

The mark grinned, "Si, all you have to do is that."

"It's like…the stripe balls versus the…not really…stripped balls?" She really did not feel too bad about sounding stupid. She might have over-played it, but the mark did not seem too notice or think anything of it. The results after the game would be amusing.

The mark sent Daniel a smirk. He smiled at her when he announced, "Ladies first." He still smiled when after she broke she was lucky to get a solid in.

He stopped smiling after she got her third ball in without difficulty.

She let Daniel call the eight ball. After all, he did not get a chance to play. He grabbed the money, and gave her a cut. She grinned a little. "Sorry boys, but next to be a little more careful on whom you choose." The line was corny, but for now she could not be associated with Daniel closely, in case they wanted to do this again.

Then she walked away.

She clopped out of the establishment. The heels were killing her feet. Never again, even for that little bit of a boost. She paused in the breezeway again and looked at herself in the merrier in the doorway.

Well, maybe she would. She did look different. It was…nice.

The next step was to wait for Daniel to come out inn about a half hour. He gave her the key to his car, just in case she did not want to wait outside his car. It was a safe enough area, she was told, but it was night and outside of a bar. Strange and possibly dangerous characters could be around.

She leaned against a car next to his, looking as viscous and unfriendly as she could. It was a bit tricky, as she wore a blue dress with big boots, happened to have one of the lightest hair and skin colors in the area, petite, and she happened to posses female parts that were indeed noticeable more so the usual. She paused over those facts. She went back over to the vehicle, opened the trunk, pulled out one of a familiar set of pipes, closed the trunk with her elbows, and went back to her previous spot. Now she felt better.

Indeed, a strange and possibly dangerous character came over. He had been the mark. She felt a slight chill, but she showed no fear. Maybe he wanted his money back. She would not fight for it, but she did not particularly wish to loose it.

"Hey, _chico-sita_. You play good. You practice?" He asked, looking her up and down, probably not caring about her skills so much as some of those facts she previously pondered on. She should be afraid. Maybe before she would be afraid, but all she held was light trepidation. She could not even raise a twitch. Maybe when he pulled a weapon or threatened.

"Look, if you want your money back, I don't care to make a deal out of it." She answered. There was not script for this part. She did not need one. "But next time, try not to bring strange people into your games."

"Nah, keep the money." He said, favoring to lean next to her on the car, yet turning to face her. Her opposite hand wrapped strongly around the pipe in her grasp. She bet by the time he decided to be rash, she could crack him upside the head or right between the legs. "But I gots to say, you impress me." He smiled at her, showing ivory. He had his all his teeth, except two that were gold, but it took a moment to spot them since the real ones were slightly stained yellow. And his breath reeked of something bad.

She already did not like him and she knew she already had enough justice just to smash him in a body-part with his proximity.

A car-door slammed to there left, causing her to jump (and pleasantly enough, the mark). Daniel stared, a new box of cigarettes in his hands. He glared. He did not say anything, but for a moment his eyes shifted down to the weapons to her side. He relaxed, if only briefly before keeping his guard up.

"What?" The mark asked, stepping to the other man and just barley past Rosaline, "You want somethin'?"

She raised her weapon slightly, but Daniel moved faster and used his slight height advantage against the beefier man. "Get away from my car, mother fucker." He mumbled.

The mark glared at him, yet obeyed. He took a few steps back.

Satisfied he would keep the distance, Daniel walked away and head back to the bar.

Not sure if she should stay, she decided not to tempt anything and headed back in. She was still afraid, but neither was she stupid. In the breeze-way, she dropped her pipe to the side, not believe anyone would take it. Even if they did, it was nothing important; just a pipe. She could get another one.

In the bar, Daniel already ordered a shot glass and swallowed the contents without much effort. She frowned. She could drive, but if he had too much, how would he get home? Rosaline had been counting on him for a lift back to the party.

She sat down three seats away from him. She did not order anything, but another glass of water was set in front of her. She sipped it. He waited exactly a half hour. He only did one more small class during the whole time. The rest of the time was spent tasting something else, probably beer. After he left, she sat in for five minutes before she stepped out. This part was planned; just in such an unforeseeable circumstance happened.

He sat in his car, watching and waiting. He spotted her come, but turned his gaze to everything else except her. She noticed that their mark was gone from plain view, at least. They did not need to worry about it anymore; if the rest of the bar did not know, that was okay. Besides, if they did see her climb into the car with him, there were other possibilities.

She approached the trunk. She noticed something on the driver's side of the car. It made her smile. "Nice decoration." She mumbled, tapping the car lightly.

"Wha?" He asked, peaked out unknowingly. He then cursed, "Fucker!" He slammed on his wheel, "He keyed my car!"

She giggled as she put her weapons down for the night. She kept a smile on as she heard more curses out of his mouth. She hopped in, buckled up, and watched him with a bright smile, "That bastard keyed-" He noticed her and glared at her, "You think that's funny?"

She nodded and replied with a smirk, "That's what you get."

He snorted, and started the car up without a reply. It made no difference if he made no other comments; He also smiled.

---

Fall was officially here and she was going to visit a college. She doubted she would go to this one, but if she went for a visit, it would look like she was trying.

Her father learned she worked at a gun-shop. That was not a fun afternoon. She did not even realize he figured it out. Then again, he had been asking why she smelled like fireworks and metal for the last week. The conclusion she figured was someone father saw her there, and told his wife, who told her mom, who told her dad. She already knew a few people at school knew she worked there. They found it to be odd and interesting, but not too surprising or upsetting. She was pretty sure even the one or two teacher who knew also did not care, so her theory was probably the correct assumption.

He just stepped in the shop one day; saw Mr. Brain helping two deer hunters getting ready for the season and Rosaline worked on her homework. Of course when he opened the door, the little bell went off and she had to look up to see if he needed assistance.

He just stared at her. She quickly looked down at the pen in her hand. Brain glanced at him and said, "I'll be with out in one moment, sir."

Her father sat in a seat near the front, looking at her. She only briefly looked up once and caught the glare. He at least waited for her boss to finish.

Brian knew her parents did not know she worked here, even though she required one of their signatures to legally work. That also meant that he had no idea who his 'next customer' would be. But the gun shop owner clearly noticed how intent the older man was on his employee. Rosaline saw it and hoped nothing bad was done over this. He made sure to get the two sportsmen out before he asked rather rudely, "May I help you?" He looked every bit the vet he was.

Her father stood up now and she gave up on her math assignment.

Brain was bigger and taller, but her dad was at least seven years younger, if not a decade. It was so…strange to think of her dad as younger then someone else.

"Nope, I was just seeing how my daughter's work environment was." Her father remained calm in his tone, but she glanced at his body language. His knuckles were turning white.

And then Brian looked between them briefly. But he visibly relaxed; she figured he no longer had to worry about something ugly happening, like the night she first met him. "Alright," He stated coolly, the tension he held gone. He waited for her father to reply.

"This isn't an office. She told me and my wife she was working somewhere like that." Her father informed, "She told us she was doing secretary work."

Brian chuckled, "Well, if that the worry, then yeah, she does all of the clerical services. She takes messages, answers phones, does inventory. I don't leave her alone to handle guns and ammo. She also gets me coffee." The part about the guns and ammo was false; she could take apart, clean, and load a few different weapons as good as any regular. Then again, that was not a job duty; that was a personal choice.

"She did not tell me she was working at a place that sells weapons." Her father probably did not know what he wanted to say. Neither did she, but she kept her mouth shut.

"Well, I receiver the paperwork from her school, so I figured that if they knew, her family knew, too." She was glad Brian did not sound like he was trying to belittle her father.

"Do you really think this is a good environment for a child?" Her father finally got to his point.

"Well sir, I can assure you, I'm teaching her about her country, including freedoms we, the people, have, including our second amendment rights." She knew what he was doing; Her father probably thought her boss to be a pervert and just wanted a piece of jail bait around, but now he could have thought him to be a crazy gun nut who wanted to spread the jargon or cause or some crack-pot government theory to the younger generation.

Her father sighed. Apparently, it worked for the moment. "Alright." He replied about. It appeared the word 'Alright' translated to, 'I am not happy, but I'll accept your answer for the moment.' He turned to look at her, but she already turned away, back to her school work. She hated the irrational fear and embarrassment she felt. There was no reason for it. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure." Brian said.

"Alone." Her father stated, having yet to take his eyes off his eldest. "I want you to go outside."

She did not move. Frankly, she felt a bit angry now. She was at her job, and her father came in and told her she had to leave? He had no right. She was almost seventeen and she was not doing anything illegal or wrong. For that matter, neither was her employer and he did not to deserve to be scolded over his choice of a worker by her own damn father. How dare he. This was not some child matter about curfews. This was her being a responsible adult, at her first real experience in a work place, and he demanded she leaves because he has an issue with firearms? She knew her father was a man who used more of his mind as of his age, but this was irrational. Maybe she should have been more honest with her parents, but at the time she hid this place more out of the fear of keeping her family away from this part of her life that was not really her life. Yet she did not think her father would act so negative. No, they were not at home or anything. She would not listen.

There was a pause as she almost felt her father's gaze at her increase. So she did not move. He did not have the reason or rank to do so.

"Rosaline." He warned.

She did not move.

"Kid, go take a break. You got one coming up."

She got up and walked out, leaving all her work there. She stormed out, not caring if she acted like a child. Her father was treating her like one, so why should she care if she looked like one?

She may have stepped onto the street, but she had a key to the back office. She walked around the building, climbed on some wood crates, hopped over the fence, and walked to the back. She unlocked the door and stepped in, closing it quietly behind her. The door leading to the back office was open, so she slipped behind the wall, making sure not to pass the actually doorway, and listened. Brian probably already knew she was back there; he always knew. But not her father. How could he?

From what she picked up on, she did not miss much, "…permit from her school check out. I wouldn't hire illegally." Brian.

"So you really think it's safe for a minor to handle guns?" Dad.

"Sir, like I said, in the rare cases I need her to touch a weapon, I am there to supervise. None of the weapons are loaded. And when she handles the rounds, she merely does it for inventory purposes. I do not let her handle both at the same time."

"Look, she's only sixteen. Do you think it's safe for her to work here?"

"I think this is the safest place for anyone to work. Not many people will try robbery on people who sell guns." She covered her mouth. That was not the joke. The joke was nobody successfully robs a gun store.

"This is not a good job for a girl to have after school."

"Now wait, sire, is this about her being a minor or being a female?"

No reply from her father this time. Rosaline did not think she could be more annoyed with him, but he did it.

"Sir, I understand, but this should not be a thing about gender. Being taught weapon safety is something a lot of people should now about. She's very smart and she's a tough girl. I don't think you need to-"

"What makes you think you understand?"

There was a silence, but she heard a sigh from Brian, before he began talking again, "Well, I am a father of five children, with two girls of my own. They are a little younger then Rosaline and I understand that as a father of daughters you want to keep them safe and keep them gentle. But both my girls know how to handle a gun and know not to use it."

Another silence from her father. Rosaline was getting over the fact that Brian had five kids, some her age.

"Look, I know this will be between you and her, but I can assure you I am not some kind of creep. Now, I am not saying it is not good for business. I admit a young girl can bring in a few extra customers, but that's not why I hired her. If you want to talk later, or check me out, I'll give you references as well as anywhere to go to get a background check on me. Let me get my business card.

Her chief stepped inside the back office. He grabbed something from inside his desk. He closed the desk, looked straight at her, pointed to the door, mouthed 'Get out,' and stepped back into the room.

She did not mean to laugh, but she just did. It was funny; this whole situation felt funny. She made sure to lock the door before she walked back out the way she came. It was a bit tricky to get over the fence without the boxes to give her a boost, but just a little harder and more of a climb. She waited for her father to come back out.

He did, with her homework. So he got her an early day. She glared at him. "Come on, we'll talk about this when we get home." He informed her. She knew better. It meant they weren't going to talk. But she still climbed into the vehicle, wrapping her arms over her chest, and staring out the passenger window. She heard the door open, felt her felt her father get in, and watched them drive off. She did not try talking with him and he did not trying talking with her. She only announced, "I'm not quitting,"

"Alright." He said. She hated that word. Alright. None of this was.

They did not talk about it at home. Her father talked to her mother, and she talked to her sister.

The next day, her father drove her to work and stated, "If your grades go down again, you're quitting."

"Alright." She replied.

--

She had to be serious about graduating. Mattering on this semester, she might have to take extra classes to graduate. She was not thrilled about that information, either.

She already said she would pay for them if the classes were the only options besides repeating. She actually got an account with the good doctor as co-beneficiary until she turned eighteen. If she wanted money, all she had to do was have him make a call. She was not too worried. It was not like a doctor that charged over five dollars a minute would be stealing her ten dollar an hour paycheck (before taxes). He also made sure to remind her that though he had two ex wives he owed alimony to; he still had a nice glass of wine each night. Her parents thought she hid her money in a jewelry box or spent it willy-nilly. Right. She hardly touched the amount.

But to be able to keep earning her own wealth/freedom, she needed to but her educational duties first. A college run she would go.

--

It was somewhere upstate. She drove the whole time, knocking off over an hour just like that, with dad in the passenger seat for direction. She would be spending her weekend with him. She was not angry with him anymore, just a little bitter. At least he no longer complained about her driving.

The place looked new, but reminded her of a prison. Maybe she was being pessimistic, but it popped in her head. They found a parking-spot to the head office. Inside it looked nothing like a prison. It looked like a school. But just a school, not some better place for higher learning.

"Looks great," her father commented with something like pride.

"Yah." She replied, knowing she would hate this weekend.

They headed to the office. A lady greeted them. "You're Mr. Nolan, correct?"

Her father nodded with a charming smile.

"And you must be Rosaline." The lady now turned to her. Rosaline forced a smile on. She would not be rude.

"So," The woman grinned and pulled out some papers. "You want to stay for the weekend?"

"Mmhmm." She mumbled, keeping the smile on and wishing she was anywhere but here.

She felt her father's hand go over her shoulder and did everything in her will not to flinch. It was not as if her dad did anything to garnish such a reaction or she hated contact. But what he was doing was just bogus: It annoyed her. "I figured it would be good for her to have a taste of the college life."

"Well, I'm sure she'll find this to be a great school with great people and a great learning experience to give her life some great opportunities." The desk lady was so cheerful about it. "Now for this weekend, she can sit in with school events, a few classes. Oh, I hear you like basketball?"

"Yes." She replied trying not to sound as fake as her smile was.

"Well, the season does not start yet, but maybe you can meet some of the coaches. How about that?" Rosaline doubted this woman saw a game, let alone any of the people involved. She would give the woman credit for knowing the season had not started yet.

"Doesn't that sound fun?" Her dad asked, rubbing her shoulder. Oh right, he would want to take her.

"Perfect."

"Alright, well, we like to have the current students be involved with the new students, so we've assisted a student guide."

"Guide?" Her father asked.

"Yes. Sort of like a student who relates their experience and explains what the potential ones need to expect. Let's continue this conversation while we walk. If you would follow me." The woman nodded out of the office. Her dad looked down at her and she looked back up at him. They both actually smiled at each other identical smiles; not just about them having the same grin (which Rosaline did inherit from her father), but just the same knowledge behind it: All of this would be a big joke to them.

They followed out of the office. The lady kept talking about awards and history of the school. Rosaline still did not care. They viewed pictures and school made art and random cases with random names and random rooms.

She still answered when she needed to and paid attention when she also needed to.

"We also have the student guides available in case they would prefer to ask more on the peer level instead of an adult." The lady stated, as it appeared they were at the end of their journey.

"Sounds nice," Her father answered.

"Yes. We're heading to the dorms and you can meet your guide." They walked down another hallway of classrooms. "He'll show you around the campus, the outside area, the cafeteria.

"He?" Her father asked with light concern. She wanted to remind her father about the incidents in high school in which he bought her a CD player for, but that might leave a bad impression. If this was not one of the schools her sister might try to get into, she would bring it up and not care what the security or whatever thought. But she made sure to let out a loud sigh; she was getting sick of this sudden chauvinistic take he had about her as of late.

"Oh, I assure you, Ezra is a gentleman and a gentle boy. He's the top of his classes. When he first came here, he was shy and a bit younger then the other students, but he had grown up and matured quite nicely. You can meet him before we let them have some…alchemic bonding." The secretary said it as if it was a joke, but at the same time gave Rosaline a sympatric look, as if understanding the protectiveness he was exhibiting and understood how unfortunate if felt. She did not want sympathy; she wanted to leave. But, they pressed on. "Aaaand, this is our Library. It is open until two in the morning, though sometimes, especially around finals, it is kept open twenty four hours. Our students like to achieve, after all." The woman gazed around, almost in pride. "Ezra should be around here. Wait just a moment, okay?" And the lady took off around one of the many isles of books.

Her father glanced around, nodding a little, "It's a very nice place."

"Yah." She replied quietly, not caring if that was the same answer she gave before. She did think it was nice, too. Did not mean she wanted to spend the next part of her education here.

"Hello!" The woman called, walking back to them, clearly leading a student back to the rest of the group. He was barely taller then her. He also looked too thin, maybe thinner then her. Rosaline was petite, but only a hint of ribs showed under her skin if she stretched just right and her ankles were smooth with muscle, not gaudy with bones. She got a glimpse of the young man's wrist. They were like reeds and probably so was the rest of him. He wore a hoodie that, surprisingly, was just a little too small on him. It did not make him look any bigger. It made him look like a big kid trying to fit into clothing that did not fit anymore. She would have called him oriental; dark and slanted eyes, rounded face, and straight hair in a bowl-cut. But he had to be mixed; freckles married every inch of his visible pale skin. His hair was dark, but in the light it flashed a brassier color that highlighted too subtle to be dyed. She had to wonder how bad he got it in high school. "Ezra, this is Ms. Nolan and her father. Rose, this is Mr. Ezra Xue.

She held her hand out. "It's Rosaline. She hated being called 'Rose' or 'Rosy.' Too cute. Rosaline was female name, but it sounded noble and proper enough that she could bare that without seeming adorable. The only abbreviation she accepted was…Rosa. She accepted for…a reason, but not one she would ever acknowledge. When she was younger, it was because it was easier to say and had a nice flair. Other reasons presented themselves, of course.

He took her hand and nodded to her. Against his wishy-washy skin-tone his dark circles hanging under his eyes were more prominent. She wondered how much rest he could only manage. Or let himself get, depending on the case. When they let go, she stood up.

"Alright, dad, let's leave these students to mingle. They'll join us in a little bit at the cafeteria." She felt thankful to the escort at the moment. She made sure to smile at her father brightly, like a good daughter should. Her father looked the boy (or man) over, but still had to be slightly persuaded to wait for them in the teacher's lounge for a free meal and free conversation. And then it was two.

She was not sure how to start this interaction, but since she was waiting and ready top listen, maybe that was all she needed to do. Luckily, he asked the first question. "Shall we?" He asked politely. She nodded and followed. "Do you have any questions?" He asked.

"Yah. Is this volunteer work or are you trying to get out of trouble?" She asked. Might as well be honest.

He did not even flinch. Or smile. "I do get credit for it, but I do enjoy the volunteering."

"Why?"

"I enjoy seeing the next set of pupils." He glanced and took in her appearance. "It probably won't be you."

So he had some wit to him, or he was just an ass. Either way, he was being honest with her, too. "Well, I just had to look like I cared."

He made a confirmation noise, but she made no other retort. They left the library. Once outside its doors, he did inquire, "What would you like to see?"

"Your dorm." She replied. Again, he did not flinch, just gave her a narrowed and questionable look. She smirked, "My dad wanted this. If he comes looking for me and finds me alone with you, he might freak.

"Ah, rebellion." He mumbled, but guided her away from the Library, "This way, then." It took about five minutes to head to another wing of the school. She passed by more rooms, an auditorium, a café, several classrooms, and a few rooms she did not know their use.

Then they came to the dorms. There were colorful posters and campy and complaining pictures. Other items were splotched everywhere. The dorm was named 'Colt' and the visible portions of the walls were painted in an almost Native American theme with horses running around. Made her briefly wonder if all the other dorms were like this. Maybe the broachers she was supposed to read had that information in them. They stopped at a room 95.

He opened the door and she gazed inside. The first thing she noticed was the scent. It smelled clean, but something like old paper smell and something spicy hung in the air, but the spicy smell did not remind her of food. She followed him in and noticed how…tidy his room was. Not a piece of cloth with a crooked edge. No garbage on the floor. This boy was not a frat. The word 'nerd' came to mind, but he gave off no awkwardness in his movement. More like a piteous child with purpose in hi steps. Not nervous, but not friendly.

He sat down on his bed, not watching her, but clearly waiting for her to do something. She investigated his shelf. It, along with his desk, was crammed with books. Tomes of knowledge and other ideal research items were scattered on the shelf. They were also neatly stacked or put away, but as far as she could tell, they were not organized in some pattern. She noticed many books were on translations. And none were the ones she remembered being taught at school, like French and Spanish. Two most common were Latin and Aramaic. "Wow."

"I major in languages." As if he already knew her next question before she asked it.

"How do you get into that?" She had with true curiosity. She would never go into that for a steady or even a minor, but why would anyone want to?

"My father was a historian and my mother works as a part-time editor. I always pickled up on grammar and word modification well. I started to look up Greek and Roman linguistics first, but I've branched of somewhat." He pointed to a few books on top of the shelf. Probably the first ones he read.

She touched them and a word suddenly popped into her head. She nodded and mumbled the word.

"What did you said?" He asked, staring at her shoes for a moment. He probably had a problem with the dirt on them. Once upon a time, they were white. Then again, he was Asian; maybe she should have shucked them before entering. She only now noticed he had slippers on, which she knew he must have switched on at some point of entering because they would not have made the hard sound walking down the hall she heard him make before. "I didn't hear what you said."

"Cool Lexicons." She mumbled a little louder, seeing one about something that did not follow the Alphabet she knew.

"I think you are the first person outside my classes to call them by their correct category. Most people call them dictionaries." He looked impressed

She smirked, "Guess I'm not a total dunce."

"Any particular set of lexemes in other languages you like, or were you just curious about English's own?" He asked genuinely interested.

And she slightly felt bad (and a little stupid) answering, "…Lexeme?"

"…The forms a base word takes depending on usage?" He asked, any pleased look on his face washed away.

"To be honest, I only own a pocket dictionary." She received that in exchange for a pair of boots, too.

He stared at her stilly for a moment, then sighed, "I suppose you saw one on a movie, and then typed it up on some online encyclopedia."

"Actually, I knew a boy who had one. He…had a Lexicon…" She wanted to say 'He used a Lexicon to fight with' but that would put off any future conversation, "But I don't know what type of langue would be in it." She turned, recalled this familiar dialogue from someone else. "Technically, I didn't, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

"Because…I don't know number VI, except while sleeping." She intentionally mumbled her words. They were uncomfortable to say, yet it was a habit she was learning to do. Just throw out numbers at random. She saw Mr. Brian do it several times, and she guessed she was suppose to repeat the action. It was a good queue to use; say just a number if something particular was exchanged, and that way if no one understood, it could be shrugged off. Also, saying the number made it less personal. Names had meanings, after all. Yet only the few of them would know the numbers.

She glanced back at him, always curious with the reaction, and saw he was watching something that was not there. "Sorry if I-" Then he started shaking. She watched with a sick gut-wrenching fascination as it changed from small shudders to borderline seizure motions. Oh, she hoped he was not epileptic. She knew to shove something in their mouths so they would not bite their tongue off, but beyond that… "Hey, what's the matter?" She remembered you had to ask that first.

"Noo…nooo…" He just kept mumbling.

She did not want to get closer incase he had something or would do something that would end up with her having bodily harm. She simply asked, "What?"

"No…no…no…" He reported. The she heard a small mutter, "Dreams…just dreams..."

And she realized his fit. A strange…maternal feeling or something spread inside her at once. She came over to the bed and…hugged him. Perhaps not a decent hug, but this was not something she usually attempted. She draped an arm around his front. He was not that big, though, so it was not too hard to wrap both her arms around him. Her sister and her use to do this with each other when resting was near impossible those night. Rosaline started rocking him slowly, whispering 'it's okay.' She had not idea what she was really doing, but hoped her intentions were good.

He stopped shaking, but kept his gaze down. "Are you lying?"

"What?"

"Are you just teasing me?" He said, voice a little raspy, "Who put you up to this?" He sounded bitter.

"No. I was not put up. I'm not teasing you."

"How can I know?"

"Because…" She wanted the right words, but she would not say the name. She heard Daniel call her it once, and even though it would not have the same affect as then with him, it was…she just could not say that name. They needed that moment of weakness. This was different. Yet the number would be too impersonal here, as they were making body contact. So…she compromised.

"…I'm…the Key of Destiny."

His body stopped rocky, but now it was like holding a statue. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "XIII."

"Yah."

--

The school's electronics community met. She went along, even though the only thing she used a computer for was to down load music and look for awful crap on the internet to laugh at. This was a way for her to get away from her dad and speak to Ezra alone. The members gave her an assortment of looks. Most tried to ignore her, but she could tell they wondered on why she wanted to come. Ezra, thank goodness, directed no questions or the like to her, even if one or two members tried to ask.

Once everyone left, they spoke alone. Interesting group." She mumbled.

"I think you scared some of them." He mumbled back.

"Or they probably thought I was a dyke." He gave her an off-looked at her comment. She shrugged.

He took a deep breath and she knew this was the start of the real conversation. He turned his chair to face to her. "How many?"

She opened her mouth to ask what he met, but it clicked a few seconds later. "We…umm." Who to talk about first? She decided to go by age. "IV…he's a doctor. His nephew is IX, surprisingly. Oh." She reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet and reached for a small paper card. "He seems to be keeping track of everyone. Guess you should give him your information." He took the card, but said nothing else. "Back to what I was saying…I actually, um, kind of work for II. Don't ask. Um…I've also met…VIII and X." The first time he flinched today, and it was after she said one of those numbers. She did not. She could already guess who he flinched at and she could not handle hearing why. She continued on. "I do know…VII is dead."

"Dead?" He seemed surprised more on the word then who it was.

"Yah…in prison. He was…he did bad things. Maybe ask IV about it. He was his patient." She did not want to relate the grizzly details. It was not her…taste. She hoped he would not ask.

"Anyone else?" He asked instead

"I don't know…you would have to ask the band guy." She indicated to the card. "Look at the name of his band. He flipped the card over, stared and actually snored before placed the card back down. "Yah, that's what I thought, too." She garbled elegantly. Rosaline licked her lips. "Can I ask you something personal?"

"Yes, but I might not answer it." He remarked coolly, but his eyes shifted nervously.

"Right now…everyone was older then me when I met them…except for my sister." She laughed a little, "She's actually younger then me, but it's only but a few minutes, so I guess that doesn't out."

"Your sister?" He asked, confused.

"Oh, yah, sorry." She licked her lips again. "May, ah, sister, she's…she wasn't a member, but…" It was hard to describe what she wanted to state. "She was…" Well, might as well use the analogy she used before, "An…artist." She hoped she did not need to illiterate.

"…I see." He nodded. "Sorry I interrupted.

"My fault. Um…as I said, us two were the youngest so far, and I guessed the ages, but I only know there is about a ten year window. So…" She bit her lip, wondering if she would be over-stepping a boundary. "You were one of the first, but you're barley that much older then me. How…how old were you when it started?"

"Ah." A simple sound. She wondered if that was the line, but before she could apologies, "I was eight. My parents are good people, but they had a set definition of normal that I did not meet. I know they were simply scared for me, but approached it in a…complicated way." His lips twitched and this was the first smile she saw on his face, but it was a sad smile. "I've been to several different types of medical centers, from psychologist to neurologist, and even a few non-descriptive ones. I cannot blame them for taking me around everywhere. Your nine year old wakes up one morning and ask you even though it beats, does that mean he still have a heart? My whole childhood was spent in some not so wonderful places in order to try to cure or treat me." His voice started to break and she hope she was not going to make him cry. She hated it when older people cried. But he cleared his throat, "Even though I only went to school half the time, I was always a brilliant child. I believe the last test I took said my IQ was over 157. I was able to take some extra classes and I graduated high school early. My dreams ended around the same time I entered this secondary school and I was able to…become myself more." He gazed around with something she could only describe as fondness. "I like this school."

"I'm sorry." Rosaline muttered, not sure if she could understand why she could be sorry.

"Not your issue." He replied with a small movement that she assumed was a shrug.

"Did…the therapy ever help?" She asked, less worried about formalities.

"Did it help you?" He asked in turn.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it. She thought on that answer before she replied. "I…well, I guess not." She shrugged. "Inversely, it helped. It wasn't like people thought I was fanatical, just angry."

"Angry." It was a statement, not a question.

"I my defense, the first time I got in trouble was with a guy who pinched my ass and the family just got a little up because I nearly snapped his arm clean off, but trust me, he had it coming. It wasn't until I knocked the center's teeth on my teeth out that…well, I had to go."

"How long?"

"A few times…but I only counted the first time." He looked interested, but made no comment. "They put me on medication for a bit, but I just flushed the pill. But I figured I didn't need it. Found out who my sister was, so I had someone to help me through the night. I presented myself better and showed I was calm and improving now that I knew I have a problem. The therapist blamed it on something physiological development I was going through and said I would be fine." She felt comfortable, and asked a final question, "You still go to therapy?"

"Part of what I must do to receive money to go to school. I take courses full time and it's hard to find a job. I might be able to eventually do something for myself through the school, but as of now…I still have to take sessions." He finished with a strange affect. It sounded drained, but at the same time emotionless. Like defeat.

"Is there anyway out of it?" Rosaline thought it felt strange to ask. She wanted to help. "Don't you have any freedom?"

"Well, I am nineteen, so they cannot force me to see anyone I don't want to. I never thought of looking for another doctor."

"So…"

"I can choose my own doctor, so long as they are sound."

This was too perfect. Of course, she had no idea how 'sound' in the medically community he was, but, "I know one. If you don't mind a drive." She felt the smiled on her face. "I never said what kind of doctor he was."

--

It took over two weeks, but she waited outside the familiar coffee house without worry. Ever since she appeared to be serious about continuing her education, her father was less strict with many things, including her job and the locations she walked to. The whole fight had officially blown over. Even she was no longer angry, though she would remember.

Ezra pulled up. The car looked new. There were only two people she told that she found another person.

He rolled down his window and popped his head out like a cautious turtle out of its shell. "Why outside here?" He asked.

"So Danru can say hello." She articulated, looking at the car with interested. Maybe she would find one in that color.

"I'm sorry?"

"Like I said, he's keeping a rooster." She found humor in all of it all of a sudden.

"You mean…what do you mean?"

"Go talk to him."

"Why?" His confusion changed into a glare.

"Just humor him." She stated with a shrug. She hope he got the message that she was not going where until he went and talked with the musician. He stared at her; she knew that type of glower, but she did nothing but munch out a complimentary pack of treats she receive for bring Ezra. She stared at up at him as he stared down at her through the door. There was no rush, after all. He finally got out of the car, but then he merely stood against the car, folding his arms and clearing his throat. She gave him a cheeky look and simply started at his car. She would give him credit; he lasted a full minute before he dropped his arms and wondered inside. She liked it when she won.

She finished the bag, daydreamed for a bit, then she pulled out a bottle of water. She promised her mother that she would be home for a girl's day out. It was her mother's way of shopping for their birthday gift; see what they liked, put the item on lay-away, and get it for their birthday. They all went out to eat somewhere nice afterwards, just the three of them. She knew she was in no rush, but she still wanted to get home at a decent time.

It took under a half hour before he waltzed out. She stood up, brushed off the crumbs, and smirked at him, "Did you have fun?"

"He is…a character." He stated politely. "His uncle…?"

"Like water and ice." She replied smartly. She briefly thought about Daniel and his 'cousin,' but none analogy came to mind.

He made no comment on her statement, but instead handed her an envelope. "This is for your sister, he told me." She took it and slipped it in her pocket. Curious, but not her place. "Shall we?

Rosaline shrugged. "I walked, so you'll have to drive."

"Very well." He moved to the driver's side. She hoped into the car without any other invitation. She was getting too use to this; climbing into stranger's vehicles. But as of yet, she felt no concern for her safety. Maybe apprehension. But nothing that qualified as fear. "Don't spill anything. I rented."

Nothing else was added as they drove, save directs. Nothing was added as they entered the building. She saw the familiar woman greeter buzz them in. They entered and…Rosaline observed.

The familiar round face turned and stared at Ezra. Ezra stared back. There was a…glimpse of something. Just…a moment passed between them. She remembered quite suddenly that she was not one of the original six.

"My nephew said young Rosa found someone, but not the who." The doctor played with his glasses. "It is good to see you again."

"You too." The college student mumbled quietly. He took a seat. There were several still available.

She stepped out, shut the door behind her quietly, and waved a farewell to the secretary. They might have looked at her departure, but they did not call her back with them. She really did not want to be in there, anyways. When it came down to it, her conversations with them would be nothing helpful. What she did was enough; she found Zexion, and while Saïx could not have been saved by Dr. Morris, maybe VI could.

She probably would not go to that college. She probably would not see much of Ezra. Maybe her sister would. But…that was okay. Actually, at this moment, as she walked out and headed home to pretend to care about clothing and be grateful that her parents let her become who she needed to be come and grateful her time was only over a year and she had someone to keep her sane that whole time, she felt more then okay.

She felt fine.

--

She did not feel fine.

Last night she had a dream. This was not a crazy flashback or just a subtle flash of senses. This had been a plain dream. No, a plain nightmare, altered by a chemical released in her brain that for some odd reason cause her un-wakeful mind to think up devastating memories re-imagined. It was based on the past, but it added elements to the present. She needed to see Daniel.

It was true they had called one another, but never to make a time to see each other. The most they ever came close to was, "I'll be at this place at this time." Never saying, "I need to see you." Not like she did today.

And he came. They were at her school, though not at the building. They were at the entrance to the nature center down from the school, but it was the same property. He came, just regular Daniel. He must have been at work early today and took a lunch break. He still had a black apron on. She felt a little guilty. He also looked uncomfortable, but his gaze kept going to the parking lot and any open areas. She thought she understood; she was under age and he was in an area of prominently white. It did not apply to them, but it, unfortunately, would be everyone else's problem and the blame would go on him.

"Hey," She commented, asked, and greeted all at once. He made a noise, but nothing else. He took a seat next to her on an old log used for camp fires. "I'm...I'm sorry. I had to talk to you." She wanted to say she just had to look at him, but that was strange to admit. She hated how she sounded, how desperate she felt.

"What's the problem?" He asked, already reaching for something to light.

"I had a dream." She looked at the ground, this time not going to scolded him for smoking in an area that clearly says no smoking.

That peaked his interest. "Dream?" It made him lower his hands and starve off the addiction.

"Not like that…Just…" She already felt the pain from last night returning. It ached, especially with him here. "It was…in a place. A between place. And…there were a lot of them around, all around in a circle. And they just kept coming. It was, me and you…but…not like how we are now. Like the dreams. And…eventually…you, the not-you, ignited. Just like that. Just telling me to watch, as if it was you lighting fire-crackers instead of your body." She bit her lip and could not look at Daniel quite yet. She could see the flames, and she did not want to see them around him this second. "And as you faded, it wasn't not-us, but really us. Like, Rosaline and Daniel." In the dream, it had not been strange for his skin to turn it's almost deadly white to its currently russet coloration. She also saw herself in the dream. Her change was no so dramatic on the skin level, even if it was a whole gender. Subtle changes, as she considered them. Just her hair curling down instead of up. "I watched you die."

It seemed that even the forest went dead silent. Daniel first spoke, "What did…" He took a deep breath, "Why did you tell me this?"

"Because…" Because are you going to do it again? Because will you do it again? Because can you be reckless? Are you bold? Like that? Like you once were? Do I need to be afraid for you? Do I need to be able to protect myself better? Am I the only one you would do this for? Could you do it again? With now having a life? A real one? Would you leave me? After everything? "What were you thinking?"

"I don't-"

She cut him off, "What did you think you were doing?' She felt a strange chilled anger and something close to hate in her stomach. She was more worried about holding back the tears.

He did not reply right away, maybe waiting to see if she had anything else to say. But he chocked out a few words, "I…wanted to…be able to see…" He hissed on the 'e' vowel, and then stopped. She would have stopped, too, because she realized it: They had this conversation before.

"You died for me." She stated, "You died." She took a breath, but it sounded like a sniffle and she knew that she was already crying. But it hurt. She did not sleep after that dream and scatted through today barely. Her friends wondered, but she gave an excuse of a restless night. But why did that life seem so distant to the distant life that may never have happened effect her? Right now, the memories were all too vivid. Because he died and neither of them truly believed he would be alive again. They hoped, but not believe. And he died, committed suicide, not for an honorable reason, but just for her. Maybe if she had been a boy, this may not have upset her so much. Or maybe boys are just taught to hide their hearths better. Or maybe this had nothing to do with gender and if she had a heart back then like she had now...

She cried and looked up at him, hating how weak she felt, hating him a little, too. "You died…but aren't, are you. 'Cause you're alive and…you're alive and here. And…" She kept speaking, but even she did not know what she was saying anymore. There was so many words she wanted to say in an 'once upon a time.' But she lost them here.

Rosaline did not move, but it was Daniel who scooped her up. She buried her face against her chest, not caring about the flour that she felt against her cheek. Because he was alive. Dammed, he was alive! She more cried for a lot of things at this moment. She felt happy and sad all at once, but most of her tears were dedicated to the relief that he was there.

Because when it came down to it, they really did it. They got it. And it was not just her who got it, like he called her silly over when she said yes, she would meet him.

In her defense, he brought it up in the first place. He said he wanted to meet again, after all.

--

There was something Ezra asked her before, but at the time she was not overly-curious. But…she wanted to know.

"How many have you found?" She approached Danru one day. Actually, she was dropping off something her sister gave her in return for the paper she received. She thought it might be a letter. Felt like one.

"Whah?" Danru cried loudly. She did notice the headphones, but figured he would not be playing them in a 'minimum price entrée is at least 10 dollars' kind of place. They were not at the coffee place, but some India restaurant owned by an uncle or a friend or someone Rosaline would never meet. She originally did call the coffee house, but they informed her that the band was not playing today. She would have waited for her question, but she did not want her sister to wait on whatever she wanted delivered. So, she made other arrangements.

He turned the music off or paused the machine with a press of a button, then focused on her. "What did you say?"

"I said how many have you found?"

"Oh," He replied, quite sedated now. He seemed to think for a moment, "Maybe all of them. Most, at least."

"All?" She was surprised at that statement.

"Yah, as of now…pretty much done." He commented. She would ask more, but their curry came. It smelt good, so she started to drop rice and her veggie mix on the large plate provided and stirred it around. Danru only ordered the curry. He dipped their spicy chip-things into this and began crunching. Once satisfied with her mixture, she took a bite. It was delicious.

She ate a couple of bites. But once her hunger was sated, she took a sip from her canned drink and cleared her throat. Danru looked up at her, and she hope she was not breaking any cultural etiquette, "Who is missing?"

He swallowed what is in his mouth, "Oh, I and III, but I guess I don't count."

That meant that she had not met everyone, but…she was not exactly eager to meet any of the others left. Neither did she give much thought about III, except for mild curiosity. "So, you think he'll pop up?"

"He might…but maybe not." He grinned at her, "As tragic as this seems, everyday around 275,000 people die. Under 10,000 of those figures are from this country alone. Meaning that at least one hundred people died in this state today. And males are always more likely to die then woman; I think it's around 1.5 time more likely, depending on age. So, he could have been one of those." He paused, looked her over, then laughed, "Well, if he were a man. He might not have been a man. You kind of prove that."

"What's you're proof that he's dead, though."

"Um…well, I figured out ages and such. VII died before his dreams ended. So who's to say someone didn't die during that time, or even before then?" He replied lightly.

It was a sound theory. She tried to picture what III could have looked like. Age, gender, ethnicity; all different for them. She looked at her plate, but she was not done talking. She just had one more question, "Danru?"

He already dipped a chip in and her voice paused him from lifting it the rest of the way to his mouth, "Huh?"

'Why would you want to meet these people, especially eat dinner with the one who technically destroyed you?' She wanted to say, but decided that was not…polite. She instead asked, "Why…are you doing this?"

He blinked, but set the chip down. He caught her off guard with a smile, "Don't you find it a bit of a weird coincidence that we all live in the same general area?" She opened her mouth to argue, but his tongue was too quickly, "We all live in the same state, besides some of use who travel for business or because family lives across the world. I checked. All the backgrounds are different, yet we all just…ended up here. This whole big world and all of us are here. Heck, me and you both have blood relatives that were also members! And Danny and Walter are family, too. Too big of a coincidence." He looked up at the lights and looked to be thinking something. "So, I consider this, for all of us, try number 2. Kind of a do over. Maybe wherever that place was did not have a good place to put our souls, so it wanted to start us from scratch. Maybe it's a bit more complicated then that, but yes, let's call it a do-over." He reached down for his dipped chip and took a bite. She followed suit. After a few moments, when he finished chewing, he stated, "I do it for hope, too." She looked up at him, but did not say anything. "If it happens again…If it was all real and not some crazy delusion share by a dozen people, then…Those who become like we were…I want them to know they'll get a second chance. I was hopeful back then, so I guess I'm even more so now." He grinned, "I mean, if the plan worked out before, then they wouldn't have to worry. But just in case it doesn't…well, they could have now. This is what they will end up with. And I like this." He waved around to the restaurant. "It's not my dream, but I don't know if I would believe in living in a dream. I think I like reality better. Understand?"

She remained silent, thinking of the subject, but of words told to her by "Another." He probably took her pause wrong since he smile good-naturally and shook his head. "Okay, I know the words might not get out. If it ever happens, I'll have to put it up as lyrics or something. Then again…it's enough I got them somewhere, right?"

Rosaline nodded this time, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Something bugged her. Not about what he planned to do, but the hope he held in the past. She knew right now that her and her sister were probably the only ones that knew their overseer, who they followed and they hope to…was a liar. She never thought about mentioning it, because…she did not dwell on that moment that much.

But seeing the hope the older man displayed, the somewhat loyalty to all of them in a strange way, she would not say anything. In dreams, in darker times, that was the hope they had. What they did was not just half-monster's struggle for power instead of their hope. Even though the past was not wakeful, it clung to them all just a little behind their eyes.

No, she would not break it.

She put on a smile, "This is really good." And they enjoyed their meal.

--

The last part of this chapter was something I though up recently. With the talk of 358/2 Days, it got me thinking about motivation behind some actions. It fits so perfectly, though. And it's a good way to end this chapter as well as a way to see Danru's motivation.

There is only one more chapter after this, which is currently being written. Quite a many things will happen and that will be the end of this following story. There maybe a short bonus chapter after it, but that probably won't be written for a while, so as far as mentioned, the next chapter is the last chapter.


End file.
